


V

by writeranthea



Series: Behind the Façade [5]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Execution, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Friedrich is lowkey (highkey) a softie for Giacomo, Guilt, Heartache, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Post-Betrayal, Psychological Trauma, Recovery, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-01-25 21:44:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 121,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18583174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeranthea/pseuds/writeranthea
Summary: Returning to his life at the court of Sanssouci was not as easy as Giacomo had hoped it would be, but fortunately for him, Friedrich was willing to do anything in his power to help his lover settle back in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it took so long for the fifth part to come! I don't know what it was, but I somehow knew that I needed to take a break from the series if I didn't want to lose the passion for it :-)
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

“Friedrich...” Giacomo‘s repetitions of his name, whispers of a breaking voice, shook Friedrich to the very core, for he never would have wished nor imagined for his name to be said in a way like that. “Sh, I am here, Giacomo, I am here now.” Oh, but as if Giacomo‘s whimpers had not been enough already the younger man had seemed to have lost his mind when Friedrich had called him “Liebling”, when Friedrich had drawn him into his arms. Every single flail of Giacomo‘s arms and every kick of Giacomo‘s legs had pushed a knife into Friedrich‘s heart, who had tried his hardest to keep his composure upright while keeping his arms locked tightly around Giacomo, trying to calm the man he loved so dearly with gently-spoken words and soft touches. He began to suspect that Giacomo did not even realize that it was Friedrich who had wrapped his arms around him, not Karl Eugen, but the relief that flooded him when Giacomo finally stopped struggling, after what must had been an eternity, was short-lived. Friedrich losened the embrace when he felt how his lover sank against his chest with one last sigh of his name. “Friedrich...” “There we are,” Friedrich whispered, kissing the younger‘s clammy temple and stroking his hair. It settled in very, very quickly that something was not right, he did not know what it had been that had triggered that certainty. “Giacomo?” He tried to gently push Giacomo away from him so that the blond would sit up and look at him, but his lover was a dead weight. “Giacomo?” Friedrich let out a string of curses under his breath and his vision blurred within a second as he held onto Giacomo‘s shoulder to shake him with a gentle force, only to be met with no answer. Karl Eugen was still watching the scene unfold with an indefinable glint in his eyes as Friedrich turned around, a protecting hold on the younger, and very much unconscious, man. “We need to move him onto the bed,” Friedrich said, hoping that the despotic duke would realize just what he had done and thus help. He should have known that is was doomed to fail; Karl Eugen was no man, he was a monster. How else could the things that he had so obviously done to the innocent Giacomo be explained?

Friedrich pulled the non-responsing man a bit more against his chest, hoping that the raspy and shallow breathing he could make out would not cease down. That he must have given a sight of utter pity, one as unfitting for the king of Prussia as it could only be, hunched rather than kneeling on the floor with the man he loved in his arms, was of littlest interest to Friedrich as it could have been in that moment and just as he felt as if he was about to be crushed by a wave of despair, a guard wearing Prussia‘s colors walked past the open door. “Guard, up and front!” He could hear the rattling of armor as the guard haltered and took a few steps backwards until he faced his king with quite the red face, “Y-Your Majesty,” the guard said, saluting. “I did not expect to find Your Majesty here.” “Help me with putting him on the bed,” Friedrich retorted and shifted in his position on the floor, his voice lacking the ordering tone that could usually be found in it. “Of course, Your Majesty.” The guard had obviously not expected that either as he did look around in slight confusion before he leaned his shotgun against the wall before he walked further into the room. “Halt.” Friedrich stopped him just as the guard had been about to reach for Giacomo‘s ankles, like one would do with any unconscious person. But Giacomo was not any unconscious person. “Put your hold underneath his knees.” “Yes of course, Your Majesty.” The guard obeyed, and even though it did cause him some struggle Friedrich eventually managed to heave himself back onto his feet, wincing at the protest of his knees but keeping his arms steadily wrapped around Giacomo‘s chest. “Careful, careful!” The king of Prussia and the royal guard moved quickly and precisely, playing the unconscious man on the small bed that the chamber was furnished with. Friedrich barely kept himself from gasping out loud when Giacomo, still not awake, groaned as if he was in unbearable pain. “Sanssouci,” he whispered, leaning down and closing his eyes as he caressed the younger man‘s hair and was forced to listen to Karl Eugen‘s bone-chilling laughter that halled through the room and directly into Friedrich‘s heart. Giacomo looked beyond broken, and the man responsible was having a good chuckle over it a few meters away from Friedrich without the latter being able to do anything about it. Not yet at least. Oh, Friedrich was willing to swear on his mother‘s grave that once he would know just how, neither his own nor Karl Eugen‘s title could or would stop him from acting. But for now he needed to keep a mask on, that he knew. “I am sure that you have a personal physician, do you not.”

“I do indeed have one, old friend,” Karl Eugen spoke in that uncomfortably smooth voice of his and crossed his arms over his chest as he, once again, leaned against the frame of the door. “I would be a fool if I would not.” The duke of Württemberg looked downright pleased with himself and the situation. “But why exactly would _Your Majesty_ require his attention?” Giacomo let out another groan which blurred lines with a choked sob, reflexively throwing his head to once side and thus revealing the bruised on his neck. Friedrich felt his stomach churn, that they had been caused by somone grabbing his neck he knew in an instany. He, too, had left such bruises on Giacomo‘s skin before. “Did you even look at him once? It is him that requires immediate medical attention!” “Oh I have looked at him, alright,” Karl Eugen gave back and Friedrich was sure that he, if he had a hold on his cane which he had carelessly discarded onto the floor when he had layed eyes upon Giacomo for the first time, would have used it in a way that would have made his father proud. He felt his heart beating strongly in his chest, the hand that was not stroking Giacomo‘s hair balling into a fist as imaged of Karl Eugen forcing himself onto Giacomo stood boldy in front of his inner eye; he could found the proof that some may as well be true in front of his eyes and under his hand. Friedrich cleared his throat, the unsteadiness in his voice being due to the strength that it took him to keep himself from losing his cool. or the least bit that was still present, “I will not ask you a second time and you would be wise to remember just how strong my troops are standing.” “He is residing in Stuttgart,” Karl Eugen pushed himself off the frame of the door and into a straight posture, “I will go and make sure that he will be notified -” “You will not be going anywhere,” Friedrich cut the duke off, removing his caressing hand from Giacomo‘s forehead as he suddenly was not able to bear it any longer. The younger man was burning up from nursing a fever, and the fact that he did frightened Friedrich even further. He would be damned if he would lose Giacomo again, and possibly for the last and final time at that. The king of Prussia and the duke of Württemberg glared at each other much like animals that were trying to find out their opponent‘s weak spot, and Friedrich allowed a corner of his mouth to twitch up when he saw how Karl Eugen‘s entire body seemed to tremble, most likely due to the fact that he duke knew very well that he would be captured by Friedrich‘s men before he would reach the courtyard, if he should dare to turn and run. Friedrich only took his eyes off Karl Eugen to shoot a look at the guard, who had been standing at his side, as he had not been dismissed by his king yet, a look that must have said exactly what Friedrich had wanted it to. The guard nodded once before he strode through the room, took his shotgun and disappeared out of sight.

“You will regret ever daring to lay a hand upon him, I swear that to all that is holy.” Karl Eugen snorted, “So instead of supporting me in a war that could be as glorious for you as it would for me you will fight me?” The duke shook his head but miserably failed to hide the nervousness that must have risen inside of him. Behind all the cockiness and bumptiousness, Friedrich was very much able to see that Karl Eugen stood nowhere near as stable as he thought himself to be. “Why?” It was one word, one single question but loaded with such a great mixture of the emotions that Friedrich was experiencing that it was the duke that grinned that time. “I do believe that you already know the answer to your question and thus do not need me to speak it out aloud,” Karl Eugen went on with a low and cold voice and Friedrich felt a surge of protectiveness when the duke‘s eyes shifted from him over to his unconscious lover, who still lay outstretched on the bed. Giacomo made a sound every now and then, and Friedrich had seen his eyes rolling behind his closed eyelids. Neither were actions that the younger man really initiated, probably, and Friedrich would have had a hard time believing that Karl Eugen had managed to turn his Giacomo, the man he loved like no other, the sun of his life, into such a sight of pity and despair in the course of a month if he would not have been there to see it with his own eyes. “You did all of this because of a _battle?_ ” “I did it because of my reputation!”, Karl Eugen yelled back, his face having turned into a dark shade of red within a few seconds as he pointed a finger at Friedrich. Considering their different titles and ranks, it was as big of an eclat as it could have been. For a duke to address a king in such a way... though if it would not have been Karl Eugen, the man that captured and violated his Giacomo, Friedrich probably would have let the lower-rank man go with a dark look. “It was you that promised me aid in the war that was to come! It was you that broke the pact!” Friedrich‘s eyes narrowed but he did not take one single step away from Giacomo‘s side, no matter that it would have been in his right to do so. “It seems that you have forgotten who you are talking to -” The duke of Württemberg threw his head back to laugh, a cold sound that filled the room, “Trust me when I say that I have most definitely not forgotten.” “There was never a pact!” Friedrich rarely ever got loud, as he could neither stand being it nor bein addressed with it, thanks to his father, and thus paused for a short moment to catch his breath, telling himself that he would be on the favorable side if it was him that would keep his voice at a reputable level. “What are you trying to say -” “I can assure you that you will not find a single parchment with my seal on it that acknowledges the pact that you are speaking of.” “We had an agreement!” Karl Eugen was in rage, that Friedrich knew, though where the duke took the right to, he did not. “Just to repeat myself, _old friend_ , you broke our agreement and it was also you that allowed your little whore to travel the roads alone. Be honest with yourself, what did you think would happen?” “Watch what you are saying -” “It was an endearing sight, really, you know,” Karl Eugen swallowed visibly and must have caught himself afterwards, as he squared his shoulders and smirked as he spoke, “to hear and see him cry for you every time that I fucked him. It was almost as endearing as seeing the,” the duke gestured with his hands while he faked having to search for the right words, “ _light_ fade from his eyes when I told him that his beloved Friedrich would not be coming for him.”

 _“I do understand because I would choose the good of my country over myself, too”_. Dread in its finest form washed over Friedrich, causing his breath to hitch. While he had suspected, had feared that Karl Eugen would tell Giacomo just that, it was still horrible to hear it being confirmed by the despotic and mad man of a duke himself. “If all of... _this_ happened due to a political disagreement between us,” Friedrich clenched his teeth to keep himself under control before he continued, “then what role does he play?” “Well,” Karl Eugen shrugged and wiped imaginary dirt off the sleeve of his shirt, “since your lovely little whore would, or could, not answer my questions regarding your internal politics, no matter how hard I would beat him for it, he is still playing two very significant roles.” Friedrich could not do but shake his head, he had kept Giacomo out of his political duties because he had feared just that; the younger being abducted and forced to disclose said information. He could hear the blood rushng in his ears and could feel his veins burning from the combination of hate, desperation and remors that ran through them. Hate that made him wish that he would be able to launch at the duke right there and then and kill him where he stood. His other emotions were reserved for Giacomo only, Friedrich was sure that he could _feel_ the desperation on him holding onto his heart with a vice-like grip and making him fear for the worst of all possibilities to happen. While he had found Giacomo, Giacomo yet had to return to him. “The first role he plays,” Karl Eugen spoke and gestured as if he was standing on the stage of a theater, “is very simple. It is to provide me pleasure, I will not lie and deny that he is quite lovely and fuckable and I also will not deny that I used him for my desires as I wished to -” “You are a monster -” “But he, most importantly, brought you to me. Come, be honest, you never would have showed up here if it would not be for your little whore.” Maybe it had been Karl Eugen‘s words, or maybe it had been the casualness that the duke had spoken them with, but no matter what it had been because it, in the end, had been enough to make Friedrich lose a great part of his composure. “You are a monster and I swear to God that I will make you pay for what you have done!”, he yelled, clenching his fists at his sides and turning around rather abruptly. His shoulders slumped, just barely noticeable, thus hiding the fact that Friedrich had needed to put up a real fight in order to not break down at the spot he was standing on due to the sheer horror of what he had heard. _His fault, of course it was his fault_. “Now now, _my old friend_ , I am far from a monster. I am a politican, a duke and a man who knows what he wants.” Friedrich made a gasped sound but Karl Eugen went on before Friedrich could have reminded him, once more, of who he was talking to. It would have been to no avail anyway, why would someone that had dared to abduct the king of Prussia‘s official lover, someone that had dared to lay hand upon said lover in the most cruel way would actually listen to what Friedrich had to say. He was done talking.

“If those are the words that allow you to sleep at night.” “That they most surely do.” “I am also sure that you will be able to rest even more comfortably with the knowledge that I will only rest after I made you pay for what you have done.” “And just how do you intend to take your revenge, _Your Majesty?_ I am the duke of -” Friedrich allowed himself to smirk when one of his guards, that had came back into sight a few moment before, grabbed Karl Eugen from behind, hand firmly holding onto the front of the duke‘s neck and thus making it difficult, almost impossible, for the duke to speak properly. “You cannot do this.” “I can and I will,” Friedrich retorted with a monotonous voice, looking at Giacomo as if the act alone could give him strength, before he left his lover‘s side to move closer to Karl Eugen, who struggled in the guard‘s grip much like a fish would in the hold of a fisherman since the second guard had bound his wrists behind his back, with long strodes. “You were not even clever enough to even try and deny it,” Friedrich spat at Karl Eugen prior to addressing the guard that had detained the duke of Württemberg. “Take him away.” “You cannot do this,” Karl Eugen gasped once more, his struggles increasing in strength. “You are in my lands and in my palace, I -” “I can and I will, you just wait and see.” Friedrich was proud of himself for managing to speak with a cold and distant voice when he, really, felt anything but cold and distant and he watched how the duke was lead away after having given a hand signal to the guard. As soon as Karl Eugen was out of sight the thin façade that Friedrich had managed to put up had crumpled into nothing but dust, and he turned his back towards the remaining guard that still stood in the door, for he should not see the tears of his king. Friedrich cleared his throat, not trusting himself enough to speak but the guard, thankfully, reacted without Friedrich having to use his words. “A herald has been send to Stuttgart, Your Majesty. He will make sure that the doctor will be notified.” Friedrich nodded, “I will notify Your Majesty if there should be news,” and he had to nod one more before the second guard, too, walked off and he was finally alone with his Giacomo. He threw the door close forcefully enough for the frame to rattle and paused in his movements, wiping at a stray tears on his cheek as he turned back to face his lover, who still had not shifted from the position that Friedrich and the guard had put him in. It was an utterly, utterly heartbreaking sight. “Oh Giacomo,” he whispered with a “tsk” in his voice, taking one hesitating step after the other until he stood at Giacomo‘s bedside. Friedrich tried to calm both his nervousness and the racing of his heart. His breath hitched when he slowly lowered himself into a seating position on the edge of the mattress beside the younger man and resumed to stroke the unruly strands of hair away from Giacomo‘s forehead, silently cursing in his mind when he noticed that said forehead was then hotter to the touch than it had been before. He leaned over, just a bit, to whisper “Giacomo, my love, can you open your eyes for me?”, trying not to think about the fact that his chin had started to tremble all so slightly. There was so much hurt in his chest, so much pity for what his poor, poor Giacomo was forced to endure.

While part of it had been due to the cruelty of fate‘s decisions, Friedrich knew very well that most of it could be attributed to his own actions. Giacomo‘s flight to France with Philippe de Lorraine, which really had been nothing but a rushed, but comprehensible, flight, the stomach ulcer that had resulted from the stress and had almost killed Giacomo, as well as the trauma, which had been caused by Friedrich‘s actions, too, and had forced the younger to seek refuge in various powders. _His fault_. It had also been due to his orders that Giacomo had left Sanssouci and had went onto the journey that had led him directily into the arms of the duke of Württemberg. _My God_ , it shot through Friedrich‘s mind, _there truly was no one else to be blame but himself_. The groan that escaped past Giacomo‘s lips was louder than usual that time, and Friedrich almost jumped up from the bed when Giacomo‘s eyes slowly opened. They barely opened for the width of a crack, but it was better than nothing. “Sanssouci,” Friedrich gasped, letting out a sob that sounded suspiciously like a choked and sobbed laugh, leaning down to take Giacomo‘s face into his hand and kiss his forehead, not thinking about whether or not the younger was comfortable with touches like those. He rose back up and his eyes roamed over Giacomo‘s face as he eagerly awaited for his lover to open his eyes completely and to, maybe, answer to him, but Friedrich‘s hopes of getting a reaction from the other, even a bad one, were crushed. Not only were his hopes were crushed, no, for his fears were confirmed when Giacomo groans turned out to be sounding more and more like building up cries and something inside of Friedrich‘s chest clenched painfully when Giacomo trashed his head to each side, once and with no real strength. “Nono, Sanssouci, no, please do not be frightened,” the gentle hold Friedrich had on Giacomo‘s face was enough to put an end to the younger man‘s panicked movements, “I am here, my love, he cannot hurt you anymore,” Friedrich whispered. He used his thumbs to gently stoke the clammy skin of Giacomo‘s cheeks, Friedrich was shook to the core when he realized that he yet had to see the younger in a state that came close to this one for Giacomo looked horrible, utterly horrible. There was no other word as fitting as horrible to describe the blond; thin and pale, the only color visible on him the black around his eyes, the blue and green bruises on his neck and the dried blood on his chapped lips. Friedrich could feel his stomach churn when his mind began to create scenarios which may have caused Giacomo to bite his bottom lip as bloody as he had done it. It were abhorrent, images, but it was the fact that some of them _had_ most likely really happened which troubled Friedrich the most. “Shhh,” he tried to calm the younger down with a low voice, still stroking Giacomo‘s cheeks as his lover whimpered and groaned.

Giacomo was so obviously in pain, so far from alright, and Friedrich could not do anything but sit by his side until the doctor would come. “Shhh, my love, it is alright. Shhh, I am here.” He did not know whether his lover perceived it all, he strongly doubted it, and a sad smile ghosted around the corners of his mouth when he thought back to the last time that he had been able to hold his Giacomo‘s face like this. So many horrible things had happened to them, but especially to the Italian in the course of the year that they had known and loved each other. _A mere year_ , Friedrich had to snort even though he was in absolutely no mood for it, _had it really been no more than a year?_ His “sh”s and caressing touches began to show their wished effect as Giacomo soon calmed back down, though Friedrich feared that he was in a state closer to unconsciousness than just a deep sleep. Friedrich quickly tried to wipe his face dry at the fabric of his sleeve, since he did not want to let go of Giacomo for his own trivial needs, when he heard the door opening. When he looked up, though, it was neither the guard nor the doctor that he was expecting. “Your men are searching and securing the castle as well as the grounds, Sire,” Wilhelm said as soon as he had closed the door after him. Friedrich did not bother to ask if his valet had knocked and asked for a permission to enter, as he very well knew that Wilhelm had done so even if he had not heard it. The valet always did it, just as he never directly commented on Friedrich‘s tears, of which he had seen plenty in the years he had spend in the king‘s service so far. Friedrich also did not need to look at his valet‘s face to know that he was staring at Giacomo with wide eyes. He knew. “Good. Where did you order the duke to be taken?” “Into the dungeon, Sire, with armed soldiers guarding him. It is quite ironic that he probably is the first prisoner to be kept in them, Sire, as far as I am aware the construction of this palace was finished a few mere months ago.” Friedrich nodded, deciding against asking any further question before he turned back towards Giacomo and he sighed resignedly when he was practically able to feel the valet‘s wish being send over to him through the older man‘s gaze. “You may speak, Wilhelm.” “While what you are doing is the only right thing to do, Sire, it will not take long for the words of this action to make their rounds, if they had not started doing so already.” “Yes, it is to be expected.” “May I give you a piece of tactical advise, Sire?” “Yes,” Friedrich merely repeated as he went on with his task of stoking Giacomo‘s face, hoping to be able to soothe some of the younger man‘s pain, his emotional pain, with his touches. “My advise for you, Sire, would be to act as quick as it is possible.” “Quick... in which way?” The valet did not answer right away, but walked through the room until he had reached the king of Prussia‘s side, where he leaned down to be able to speak into the air next to Friedrich‘s ear with his voice having dropped to a whisper, so as if he feared for eavesdroppers being in their vicinity, “Let the interrogations be conducted fast and the verdicts be executed even faster, Sire. It will make it possible for you to act without any hindrances.” Friedrich turned, halfway and just enough to be able to look at Wilhelm out of the corners of his eyes, staying silent for a moment as he considered the words that had been spoken to him.

“Wilhelm, you have my permission to arrest and conduct the interrogations of everyone that you and your men think had their fingers in this, too. Let the duke be the last one you speak to. Make him wait.” “Yes, of course, Sire.” “Every verdict will go through me before it will be given out.” “Yes, Sire. I thought just that.” The valet bowed slightly and was just about to slip out of the door when a thought suddenly arose in Friedrich‘s mind. “One last thing, Wilhelm.” “Yes, Sire.” Friedrich‘s eyes had narrowed into slits as he had met the gaze of his valet, “Find out of whose company the duke is especially fond of, I want you to find and interrogate every man or woman that he is close to.” Wilhelm bowed once more, answered with a “Yes, Sire” before he walked off, only for his presence to be replaced with that of a guard not even a minute later. Much to Friedrich‘s dislike, which he allowed to be noticable through a drawn-out sigh. It was the guard that he had been awaiting “I came to notify Your Majesty that the doctor was notified and is to do arrive within the next half an hour, just as Your Majesty had required me to do.” The king of Prussia nodded in understandment and let out a shaky breath when he was, once again, alone with his Giacomo. Oh, there could not be something that he wished more for than for the feaver to cease, for Giacomo to open his eyes and made talk a few words with him. A smile from his lover would have been absolutely priceless to him... What he would give to see Giacomo smile again exceeded amy riches that he, as the king of Prussia, possessed, but Friedrich also knew that it would not be so easy. Giacomo would not just wake up and nothing would just be the same as it had been before. Of that Friedrich was certain. He sniffled, and his vision grew more and more blurry as he changed the let go of Giacomo‘s face to take one of the younger man‘s hands into both of his and bring it to his lips, kissing it. “I promise that we will be going home,” he whispered against the standing-out knuckles of Giacomo‘s hand, “do not worry, Sanssouci, you will be alright. I will give my all to assure that.” It was an easy thing to say for him when it had not been _him_ that had been forced to endure Karl Eugen of Württemberg‘s despotic and brutal presence for a month, though Friedrich, somewhere in the far back of his mind, still hoped that they, in the end, would be alright. He could not be without his Giacomo, his Sanssouci, _his Liebling_ , and it pained him terribly that Karl Eugen, in his vengeful intentions, had so blantly used Giacomo. The duke had used his soft and always loving Giacomo merely because Friedrich had allowed him to leave Prussia, and most importantly him. _It was his fault_.

While it had seemed to have been an eternity that Friedrich had spend at Giacomo‘s side, holding the younger man‘s hand and showing that had been there with him, it, in reality, had been no longer than the half an hour that the guard had prepared the king of Prussia for. “The doctor has arrived,” the guard had announced after he had been granted entrance into the room, and Friedrich had nodded, answered with a short “Bring him in,” and had continued to sit on the bed, holding his lover‘s hand as the guard, with clinking armor, retreaded. Friedrich had been able to hear him speaking to someone that must had been waiting in the corridor with a low and ordering voice. “You are Karl Eugen of Württemberg‘s personal physician,” Friedrich had stated, rather than asked, when he had perceived a second and much lighter pair of feet moving across the wooden floor, and since he had kept his back turned towards the door, he had not seen how the doctor stared at the scene, or rather at Giacomo, with wide eyes. The doctor had cleared his throat, clutching his bag a bit tighter, “That I am, Your Majesty.” “For how long?” Friedrich‘s voice had been as flat as he had managed to made it, he neither could not wanted to show his emotions in front of the doctor for the man had been associated with Karl Eugen. He had felt a hot surge of rage shooting through his veins at the mere mention of the duke‘s person, “Fifteen years, Your Majesty. I have served His Grace‘s father beforehand,” and Friedrich had gritted his teeth and tightened his hold on Giacomo‘s delicate hand, the latter all so gently, before he had found the courage, or the control, to speak. But he must have taken too long, as the doctor had not waited for any further word from the king of Prussia before he had strode over to his bed, downright throwing his bag onto the bed before he, half kneeling on the mattress, had leaned over to hover above Giacomo. Friedrich had jumped to his feet at the sudden and attack-like movements of the doctor and had watched, with burning eyes and an aching heart, as the medic had put one hand underneath Giacomo‘s chin and had felt the unconscious man‘s forehead before he had padded his cheeks with more force than Friedrich ever would have dared to do it. “Can you hear me Sire? Can you open your eyes?” Friedrich had flinched unintentionally when the doctor had shaken Giacomo, but he had known that the man was a professional, that he knew exactly what he was doing. “Sire!” The doctor had padded Giacomo‘s cheek one last time before he had raised back onto his feet, cursing under his breath and eyes not leaving the Italian as he had opened the bag that he had brought with him. “How long has he been like this, Your Majesty?” “I do not know.” The panic that the voice of the doctor had lacked had been fully loaded onto Friedrich‘s, as it had seemed, and he had looked at the guard, searching for answers in the most unusual way. “It must be over an hour already.” The doctor had nodded and had pulled a small container out of his bag, screwing it open. “I would suggest for Your Majesty to wait outside while I examine the Sire, to ensure that he is given privacy. Unless Your Majesty is insisting to stay.”

So Friedrich forced himself to leave. He grazed his fingers over Giacomo‘s hand that rested so pale and thin on the mattress before he straightened his posture and strode out of the room to give Giacomo the privacy that he deserved with head held high, an action which costed him the last bit of mental strength that he had left. The fact that he had, indirectly, been left with no other choice than to leave his lover‘s side was a heavy burden on Friedrich‘s heart, but he knew that it was for the best. He had not looked underneath the fabric of Giacomo‘s nightshirt, and if the rest of his body had been as battered as his face and neck, it was probably for the best that Friedrich was not there to be a witness of it. His poor, poor Giacomo. The door of the room that had been most likely the Italian‘s prison cell for weeks fell close behind Friedrich with a clink and the king of Prussia stood, heavily leaned onto his cane, frozen to the spot for a good few long moments as he tried to comprehend all that he had heard and seen. _“It was an endearing sight, really, you know, to hear and see him cry for you every time that I fucked him.”_ Friedrich tightened his fingers around the handle of his cane, _“It was almost as endearing as seeing the light fade from his eyes when I told him that his beloved Friedrich would not be coming for him,”_ as he could feel his body tremble from the sheer intensity of his desperation and grief. Sure, he had found Giacomo, and thankfully alive at that, too, but Friedrich knew that the chances of Giacomo being the same man as before all of this were vanishingly small. He closed his eyes and drew a deep, unsteady breath through his nose as he tried to focus on the feeling of his feet being planted onto the floor to stop feeling as if he was about to lose consciousness himself. Friedrich took one more breath before he re-opened his eyes and visibly steadied himself, walking across the corridor to sit down on one of the decorative chairs with just the slightest of limp, hoping that it would not be too long before he would know if he would be forced to return to Potsdam without the man he loved after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to update once a week, but life's pretty hectic atm so I don't know how it'll go :-)
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Friedrich had been unable to sit still for long, despite the pain in his leg, and had thus ended up pacing back and forth in front of the room in which his lover had been attended to by the doctor. He had ben scared, oh he had been so incredibly scared of the way that the situation could eventually turn out and said fear had caused his anger to rise to an indefinable level, too. Friedrich had dismissed every attempt of those who had wished to speak to him with a barked “no”, not caring whether is was a low rank soldier or one of his army‘s highest men that his snarl would be directed at. Then, finally, after what had been an agonzing eternity, Friedrich had found himself whirling around at the tale telling sound of the heavy door being opened and the king of Prussia had tried to no let his hurry be to obvious with which he had closed in on the physician, who had tried to close the door as quiet as he could have. “How is he,” Friedrich had breathed and his heart had raced as his eyes had searched the other man for any possible hint. “The Sire is awake now.” “Oh thank God.” A relieved smile had grown on Friedrich‘s face. It, however, had faded as quick as it had appeared when the doctor had swallowed visibly after he had averted his eyes to a spot somewhere near the king‘s shoulder. Friedrich had snapped his jaw close and had taken one, than another step away, half turning away with the hand that had held his cane trembling and his eyes filling rapidly. “What is he... suffering from?”, he had eventually managed to bring out with a somewhat steady voice after having cleared his throat. “The Sire is malnourished and near the point of utter exhaustion, as if he was not able to rest for a long while, Your Majesty. I do not believe that I have ever seen any man but a prisoner in such a condition.” “It is no wonder, considering that your beloved duke kept him as one,” Friedrich had snarled, not having turned back to face the physician. “I - I apologize, Your Majesty,” the doctor had retorted almost quietly, bowing his head as he had pushed his hands into the pockets of his waistcoat. “I was not aware of that.” Friedrich had dismissed it with a tired wave of his hand, and the doctor had continued, “The Sire is suffering from an infection, Your Majesty. It is what has caused his fever and which is, most likely, caused by an untreated and festering wound of his. He is in absolutely no condition to travel.”

“What kind of injury?”, Friedrich had asked, his brows pulling together and his stomach threatening to turn as he had voiced his question out, wishing that he could have went and strangle Karl Eugen right in that very moment and without any further ado. “A cut from a knife, Your Majesty. The Sire must had been slashed across the chest with it.” While it had not been the sort of injury that Friedrich had dreaded it to be, it had still been far from any good news. Friedrich had drawn in a deep breath and had exhaled it slowly before he had turned back around to face the physician again. “Would it be possible for me to see him?” If his voice had been close to a whisper, the other had not made it known. “If Your Majesty will refrain from putting any strain on the Sire whatsoever it is very well possible. I would encourage it even, Your Majesty, for he did seem as if he had been without company for some time.” “Good,” Friedrich had nodded sharply. “Thank you for your service.” “It is one of the greatest honors of my life, Your Majesty.” Friedrich‘s feet had felt so incredibly heavy when he had walked the short distance past the doctor and to the door, and he had haltered one more, with his hand already on the knob of the door. “Will he die?” He had spoken with a low voice using cut-off words, standing still as he waited for an answer from the other man. Whether he liked to hear it or not, he had known that he would need to hear it in order to believe it; for he could not do so otherwise. The physician had cleared his throat, had opened his mouth to speak but had needed to clear his throat for a second time before he had been able to give a respectable answer to the king or Prussia. “It is hard to say, Your Majesty. The wound is...,” the man had stalled shortly before he had caught himself. “If the fever decreases, Your Majesty, the chances for the Sire to keep his life are good. I will tell a chambermaid to bring a cold cloth to cool the Sire down.” Friedrich mad merely nodded before he had turned the knob and had slowly opened the door to peek inside. His heart had summersaulted from worry when he had seen that Giacomo had been resting on the bed with closed eyes - had the doctor not just told him that he had woken up? Friedrich had not taken his eyes off Giacomo as he had closed the door behind him with an equally careful manner that the physician had done it so that he would not possible startle the younger man. “Giacomo?” Oh but Giacomo had been, as it had turned out, awake indeed, for he had flinched and opened his eyes with a frightened speed, letting out a strangled gasp and Friedrich had to swallow when he had felt as if he had been downright hit with the immense fear that had stood so boldy in Giacomo‘s eyes. The younger man‘s eyes had been clouded from the fever when they had usually been so warm and bright.

The blond had tried to sit up and scramble away, probably because he, in his feverous mind, had not realized that it had been Friedrich that had entered the room and not Karl Eugen, though he had sunken back down onto the pillow with another strangled gasp as his sudden movements had caused a hot flash of pain to shoot through his fever-ridden body. He had not been able to see clear, for his vision had been blurred. Whether it had been so due to tears of the fever, he had not known. He had been in so much pain, oh in how much pain he had been, and he had been so, so tired. Giacomo had gasped when the back of his head had hit the pillow again. He had not been able to think and he also had not been able to speak properly since his tongue had refused to obey him, the only thing he had managed to bring out a slurred, “Friedrich?” Since Friedrich had not been sure if Giacomo had known that it was him, and not the despotic monster of a duke that he had been tortured by, he had hurried to reassure his presence. “Shh, Sanssouci, do not fret. It is me,” Friedrich had spoken with a soft and low voice, scared of scaring the younger if he would have spoken just a tad bit louder and taking one careful step after another into the direction of the bed. “Friedrich?” He had closed his eyes at the slurred calling of his name, and he had eventually nodded slowly as he had came closer to his lover. Giacomo‘s eyes had been laying deep in their sockets and heavy lidded, the only shine in them the frightening proof of the fever that he had been battling. It had been an utterly heartbreaking sight which had been all but supported by the thick white bandage that had decorated the Italian‘s naked chest. Friedrich had seen right away that the younger man must had been completely undressed as he had been covered up to his middle with a blanket, despite the seasonal heat and the fire that had been raging inside of him. Giacomo‘s breathing had been labored and every single intake of air had sounded as if it could have very well been the last one; Friedrich had seen enough people die from a fever, including his father, his mother and three of his younger siblings and if he would have believed in God he would have offered said God his own life if he would only spare Giacomo from being added to that count. The younger man had blinked heavily, so heavily as if he had fought to stay awake and Friedrich had stood rather helplessly at the side of the bed; he would have liked to sit down, but he had failed to spot a chair or even a simple stool when he had looked around the room. Friedrich had only then noticed how bare it had been, lacking any furniture but the bed and a small chest of drawers. _A bit more than a simple prison cell_ , it had appeared in Friedrich‘s mind as he had eventually sat down on the very edge of the bed, not wanting to seem as if he had wanted to force his presence onto Giacomo. He would have liked to touch him, to take one of Giacomo‘s hands into both of his again and maybe easy his suffering with a string of whispered words, but given the reaction that his touches had triggered the last time that he had touched an awake Giacomo, Friedrich had forced himself to keep his hands in his lap.

Clenching and wringing his hands together Friedrich had stared down at Giacomo, whose head had lolled over to one side, once again exposing the horrifying bruises that had travelled down the side of his neck. The king of Prussia, in all of his glory, had simply continued to look as he had sat there, looking down at his battered and bruised lover and listening to the younger man‘s rasped breathing. “Hold on,” he had whispered while he had clutched his hands even tighter, “hold on to life, my Sanssouci.” Giacomo had not answered, which had been expected for his slow and yet rasped breathing had suggested that he had fallen asleep and only then Friedrich had dared to reach out with a trembling hand; he lay it onto his lover‘s forehead, palm first, wincing inwardly at the heat that had immediately greeted him and hoping that the cool of his hand had been enough to ease at least some of Giacomo‘s suffering. How Karl Eugen had been able to violate the soft and kind-hearted man not only once but countless times over the course of _weeks_ in the most brutal and dishonoring way that Friedrich could have imagined, had been well beyond the Prussian‘s imaginary power. He could not have imagined a more horrible thing for his Giacomo to go through. Oh, his poor, poor Giacomo. Friedrich had swallowed hard as an act against his rising tears and had moved his hand away from Giacomo‘s forehead down the side of his face until he had been able to cup his palm gently against the younger man‘s cheek, the pad of his thumb softly stroking the clammy skin that had been pulled tightly over Giacomo‘s cheekbone. He had been sure that nothing that the blond had ever done in his life could have been so bad that he had deserved to go through all of which he had been forced to go through. Absolutely nothing; even if he would have gone so far as to allow his mind to bring up the arguement that Giacomo had slept with Philippe while they had been parted, he would have came to the same conclusion as always anyway: it had been his fault that Giacomo had left. It had been his fault before, and it had been his fault then. Friedrich had swallowed hard once more when his thumb had grazed the silver and barely-there scar on Giacomo‘s cheek that had otherwise been unscarred, the scar that _he_ had left there all those months ago. He had sat up a bit straighter and had pulled his hand back when he had heard a knock at the door, answering with a sigh of “Enter if you must.”

Friedrich had watched how the door had been opened and how, to his great surprise, a chambermaid had entered, the same that had lead him to the room earlier that day, carrying a bowl of water in her arms. “I apologize for the disturbance, Your Majesty. The doctor said that the Sire does require a cold cloth to cool his temperature.” “Yes, I have been told. Your disturbance is quite alright,” Friedrich had said, nodding once. The chambermaid had heaved the bowl a bit higher, careful as to not spill the water, before she had given a shy smile and had walked through the room with quick and light steps. It had been unnecessary for Friedrich to ask for the bowl to be brought to him, he had seen it as both his duty and his right to help Giacomo, as it had been placed in the free space between him and his sleeping lover a short moment later. For an entirely different reason, however, since the chambermaid had began to work on rolling up her sleeves as soon as she had put the bowl down and Friedrich had stopped her just as she had been about to reach for the cloth by holding out a hand. “Do not. I shall do it myself.” The chambermaid had been visibly taken aback, of course she had been, and she had taken a step back, bowing slightly. “Of course, Your Majesty, I apologize,” she had said, keeping her head bowed but Friedrich had not looked at her before he had unbuttoned and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to reach inside the bowl, wringing the soft cloth in the cold water. He had very well been able to feel the maid‘s eyes on him as he had wrung the excessive water out of the cloth, and also as he had folded it and had gently held it to Giacomo‘s forehead to which the younger man answered with a whimpering, but somewhat relieved sound in his sleep. “There we are,” Friedrich‘s voice had dropped to a whisper when he had adressed Giacomo again, using the fingers of his free hand to run them through Giacomo‘s untypically dull hair. “There we are, my love. Shh, there we are.” “This is about the most peaceful that I have ever seen the Sire, Your Majesty,” the chambermaid had spoken, holding her hands folded and in front of her. Friedrich had needed to fight in order keep a snarl down, “Well,” he had snapped, “I do not believe that he had an especially peaceful time here.” Friedrich‘s words had came out chopped and rather pressed, since he had been working his jar. The whole sitation had been very well threatening to overstrain him, for he had been so on edge that he had feared for himself to explode, verbally at least, at the slightest bit of provocation. “I - I apologize, Your Majesty,” the chambermaid had hurried to retort. “How stupid of me, I should have watched my words.” The king of Prussia had kept quiet for a few moments before he had spoken next, his silence mainly caused by the battle he had led, and had began to lose, against his tears. This had not been how it was supposed to be, Friedrich had thought that he would just be able to, figuratively speaking, grab Giacomo and go back to Prussia. It had never been a possibility to him that he could eventually find his lover in such a miserable state, unable to leave the place that he had been kept prisoned in. “Would you,” he had cleared his throat. “I want you to tell me everything that the duke has done.”

“Is Your Majesty sure that -” “Do _not_ spare me any details because you think that they are too gruesome,” Friedrich had interrupted the chambermaid in mid-sentence. “I want to know it all.” Friedrich himself had not known it, but there had been a glistering in the depth of his eyes that had scared the chambermaid. Not for her own fate, though, so she had told the king of Prussia everything that she had either witnessed herself or that had been forwarded to her by the other chambermaids and manservants. The chambermade had told Friedrich that Karl Eugen had paid a “visit” to Giacomo three times on a regular day, sometimes even more often, and that it had taken about a week until she could no longer hear cries emerging from within the room at the duke‘s “visit”. Friedrich had been told how the staff had stood in the corridor, forced to listen, with bowed heads, how Karl Eugen had projected his anger onto the Italian, how the duke had beaten Giacomo with no mercy every time that his interrogation had failed to bring the wished answers. “No matter how hard, or for how long His Grace had beaten him, the Sire had said nothing but that he did not know. It had been the same declaration of the Sire not knowing the answers to His Grace‘s questions over and over again. It was horrible, Your Majesty, really. His Grace‘s arm never seemed to tire.” Friedrich‘s blood had seemed to boil, he had been incredibly furious and broken at the same time. _Oh Giacomo..._ The chambermaid had went on to tell him how Karl Eugen had kept Giacomo bound to a chair, for the first two days of his unjustified imprisonment, without either food or drink but with many brutal hits of his fist. “The Sire‘s face was so swollen that I feared for him to pass soon after,” the chambermaid had said with a suddenly quieter voice as she had looked at the sleeping man, shaking her head at what must had been a thought of her. “I simply cannot fathom as for why His Grace would do something like this, Your Majesty.” “It is of no wonder for me,” Friedrich had brought out through his clenched teeth, “he is a man without honor.” The chambermaid had not answered to that, for it would not have been within her rights to do so, and Friedrich had soaked the cloth in the water once more to re-apply it onto Giacomo‘s forehead. His chest had threatened to burst open from all the compassion that he had been feeling for his suffering lover. He had made a silent promise, to himself as well as to Giacomo, that he would get revenge. For the both of them. “Thank you for your report.” “It was an honor, Your Majesty,” the chamberman had bowed her head and had turned to walk back out of the room, and Friedrich had sighed, his shoulders slumping as soon as she had indeed left for he, in that moment, had lacked the strength to keep his fake posture upright for longer.

He had been tired, oh so tired, and strained by the journey as well as the weight of all that had happened that day. Giacomo had whimpered in his sleep, an endearing little sound that would have made Friedrich smile if it had not been a result from what the king of Prussia had guesses had been a fever dream, so the little sound had been enough to make burning tears rise into his eyes all over again. He could not have wished for anything more than to be able to do _more_ , to be able to do anything that would have benefitted Giacomo and he had felt incredibly desperate that he had could only do so much as hold a cloth to the younger man‘s forehead when it had been his fault that Giacomo had been lying in that poor excuse of a bed instead of in his arms, when it had been his fault that there had been the thick white bandage wrapped firmly across Giacomo‘s chest, making Friedrich fear of what injury he could possibly find underneath it. “I am sorry,” he had whispered as he had moved the cloth over his lover‘s forehead to cool more of it, “I am so sorry I,” he had drawn in a shuddering breath, “I should have done more.” His whispered words had been met with nothing but silence, which itself had only been interrupted by the sleeping man‘s labored breathing. “I am sorry, Giacomo.” Again, silence; and Friedrich had swallowed hard and dry down his suddenly tight throat. “I love you, my Sanssouci. Come back to me soon.” He had removed the cloth for a final time and had put it back into the bowl, for he had feared that the cold could eventually become too much and cause Giacomo further discomfort, and Friedrich had carefully set the bowl down onto the floor beside the bed after he had raised onto his feet. He had hesitated for a short moment before he had leaned down to kiss Giacomo‘s forehead, his lips lingering on the skin that had been so hot to the touch. “Do not go where I cannot follow,” he had whispered, still ghosting his lips over his lover‘s skin. “Please do not leave me here. Do not leave me all alone, without you.” Giacomo had not stirred, neither at Friedrich‘s touches nor his words and Friedrich had been glad about it in more than one way, just as he had been glad that his lover had fallen into the arms of sleep. Friedrich had known that his Giacomo must had been traumatized, utterly traumatized. He had stroken the younger man‘s hair once more time before he had straightened his spine and squared his shoulders rather reluctantly, forcing himself to take one, then another step away from the bed while his mind had tried to conclude everything that their situation had been consistend of. Oh, he would get revenge; for the abduction, for the rape and, of course, for the cold-hearded torture that the despotic duke of Württemberg had brought onto Giacomo as if he had the right to do so.

The king of Prussia had somehow managed to turn around on the heels of his shoes, after all and abruptly really, after he had made sure that Giacomo‘s breathing, though shallow and labored, had been steady, and had marched out of the room with long and fast strodes. He had moved through the corridors of the foreign palace with a steady pace and fixed gaze, past his men that followed his order to raid said palace. Friedrich had paid them no mind, for he had been too busy with the world of his thoughts. He had stopped at the passway from which he had been able to watch the going ons in the entrance hall and had leaned heavily onto to the stone railing with his hands, both his head and his chest threatening to burst from the mess of emotions that had seemed to have engulfed him. The king or Prussia had felt a sense of pride when he had seen how it had been _his_ men that had moved in and out through the palace‘s entrance door, though Friedrich had not been able to enjoy that pride for long since the reason as for why his men had been there, why he had been there, had tore through his heart and had pushed its claws into the very core of him. All of it, every single aspect, had been in his fault. He had heard it from Karl Eugen with his own two ears. He had stood there for a good long while, watching the many soldiers and quite confused courtiers walk back and forth, watched how Wilhelm‘s men arrested some and took them away. Speaking of the valet. Friedrich had pushed himself off the railing as if it had burned his sensitive palms. How had he forgotten? He had allowed for a knowing smirk to appear on his face as he had taken hurried to take the steps of the grande escalier with a somewhat unfitting eagerness and as it had turned out, his valet had been about to go and look for him too. “Sire.” The king of Prussia had spotted the valet just as the other had appeared in the entrance hall, arms loosely held behind his back and his face an unreadable mask. Friedrich had been very well able to see that Wilhelm had been under tension. “How is Monsieur Casanova, Sire?” When he had answered to his valet, it had been with a cut-off tone, for he had worried that he could eventually lose his temper. “He is quite unwell.” He had cleared his throat, “In regards to his body as well as his mind.” The valet had nodded once, “I have been told that he is nursing a rising fever, Sire.” “It is true, as confirmed by the doctor that visited him.” “I am sorry to hear that, Sire.” King and valet had stood and faced each other in silence, as Wilhelm had not known what he could have said and Friedrich had merely tried to keep a crack out of his composure. The silence had lasted for a few seconds before Friedrich had gestured with his cane, motioning for them to walk. “How many have your man arrested,” he had asked, switching the topic like the little deal it had been for him. Revenge had been on his mind, he could not wait until he - “Twelve so far, Sire.” They had barely walked a few meters, and yet Friedrich had stopped again, that time to look at the valet in disbelieve. “Twelve?”

“Yes, Sire,” Wilhelm had answered, nodding again to corroborate what he had said. “There are eleven if you deduct the duke of Württemberg, Sire.” Friedrich had been breathing heavily, for he felt as if his throat had been constricted from the inside. _Eleven people knew and nothing was done to stop it._ “They all knew?”, he had brought out together with a cut-off breath, voice dropping low. There had still been both soldiers and courtiers running about and Friedrich had not been eager to let them all know how fragile the king of Prussia‘s composure had been. “We have arrested eleven, Sire, and four of them have been directly linked to the crime.” Friedrich had cocked his head and he and the valet had set into motion again, their heads held low as they had continued their conversation. “What are their names?” “The only man worth mentioning may be one called Maximilien Beaumont, Sire. My men found him in a rather... natural state in the duke‘s privat bedroom.” “A frenchman.” “Yes, Sire.” The muscles of Friedrich‘s jaw had been visibly working as he had tried to come to terms with the newly-found information. “Do you know if he is an acquaintance of Giacomo?” _And to think that he had believed for fury to have already reached the highest level..._ If that man should turn out to be a “friend” of Giacomo, Friedrich would make sure that he would lose his head. “Yes, Sire. Monsieur Beaumont is, or was a friend of Monsieur Casanova.” Wilhelm‘s answer had rang like a church bell in Friedrich‘s head. _Betrayed by a friend... Oh mein Liebling, have you not suffered enough already?_ “Are you sure?” “Yes, Sire,” Wilhelm had nodded, seemingly considering what he should say next. “My men have found letters in Beaumont‘s chamber.” He had not said anything more direct, but Friedrich had been very well able to imagine what content said letters would offer to him. “I wish to speak to him.” “Of course, Sire. Do you desire to speak to the duke first? He is still held in the dungeon.” Friedrich had taken a second to think before he had shaken his head, “No, he will be the last one that I am going to speak with.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit longer than I had expected it to be, but oh well. :-D
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Maximilien Beaumont may not have been aware of it, but he had been in a position that had mimicked the one that Giacomo had been foced to stay in for two entire days, with his arms having been pulled tightly behind his back and with his wrists bound to the back of the chair. One could have wondered whether he had been nervous or not; but Maximilien had pushed that question out of his mind with a smirk as he had shaken his head in order to get one of his red curls, that had annoyed him by tickling his nose, out of his face. He had not reason to be nervous, not when he had been waiting for Karl Eugen in bed and not when he had been waiting, arrested and bound, for the inevitable interrogation in the makeshift office of the king of Prussia‘s head of security. Maximilien Beaumont had nothing to fear, Karl Eugen had made a promise to him that the frenchman‘s hand would stay clean during the course of the whole operation. He had tried to shift a bit from his seating position in the chair, for its wooden seat had been more uncomfortable that he had thought it to be, and he had let out a bored and exaggerated sigh as he had leaned his head back into his neck to stare at the fresco above him. “Hey,” he had called out, trying to twist his head back as far as he could have done it without breaking his spine to catch a look at the Prussian guard that had stood broad-shouldered in the frame of the door. Maximilien had rolled his eyes as said guard had not reacted to his call before he had spoken again, a bit louder that time, “Hey!”, again to no avail. The guard had merely continued to stare straight ahead with a blank expression on his face as if Maximilien‘s words had been nothing but a breeze. “Unbelievable,” the frenchman had snarled, exaggeratedly outraged. “How long does one have to wait in order for _His Majesty_ to be so gracious and show up?” The guard had not answered, but the French had chuckled lowly when he had very well seen how a corner of the Prussian‘s mouth had twitched downwards for the mere split of a second. Maximilien had eventually accepted that he would not be getting an answer and had thus shifted back around with a huff, shaking his head of ginger-colored curls. No, he had absolutely nothing to fear, for his part in the whole thing involving Giacomo Casanova had merely been the “interrogation” of Philippe de Lorraine to find out exactly how precious the Italian had been to the king of Prussia. They had no proof that had incriminated him, and they would not find any. Even if they would, Maximilien had been sure, to the very core of himself, that Karl Eugen would get him out of it by taking the entire blame onto his shoulders.

As he had been sitting on the uncomfortable chair Maximilien had remembered the conversation that he had held with the duke of Württemberg while he had been lying underneath him; _“K-Karl?”, he had managed to breathe out, together with a broken moan as the duke of Württemberg had driven his hips forwards with a force that blurred lines with brutality, as he had fucked into him as if it had been the most important task that Karl Eugen had needed to get done. Karl Eugen had merely given a grunt as an answer to Maximilien‘s question, for the strain and exertion that had build up through his fast and hard movements had been too great to allow him to use his language in a proper way. Maximilien‘s eyes had rolled back into his head on their own accord from the sheer force and pace that the length of the duke‘s cock had been pressing and brushing against his sweet spot inside of him, making him see stars and specks of color with every thrust. He had wanted to speak up again, “Karl, did you -”, but he had been cut off by Karl Eugen‘s lips that had hungrily engulfed his into a hard kiss that had left him speech- and breathless, helplessly humming while the duke‘s tongue had circled his. He had let out a whined moan when Karl Eugen had bit onto his lower lip hard enough to break the skin and make a flash of pain run down Maximilien‘s spine before the duke had sucked on the French‘s lips. They had been lapping at each other and fucking like animals in heat, and Maximilien had liked it. Oh, he had liked it a lot. He had gasped, drawing in a much required lungfull of breath after his mouth had been released again, making yet another attempt at speaking when Karl Eugen had turned his attention to his neck instead. The duke of Württemberg had bitten at and sucked on the frenchman‘s freckled skin while growling possessively and snapping his hips forwards over and over again without breaking the rhythm that he had fallen into from the very beginning of their intercourse.”There will be no trails leading to me, will there,” Maximilien had then, finally, managed to bring out in once sentence, his voice quavering from the first to the last word - the unsteadiness due to the force of his nearing orgasm, not from any sort of sentimentalism. Karl Eugen had, once again, renounced an immediate answer and Maximilien had let out a moan of disappointment when the duke had stilled in his movements, his hips firmly pressed against the French‘s backside. The Wuerttemberger had looked at the spread-out man underneath him with an unreadable expression on his flushed face as he had slowly heaved himself into an upright position between Maximilien‘s spread legs, sitting back and balancing his weight onto his knees and heels without pulling his cock out of the other man. Both men had been panting, breathing heavily with exertion, and Karl Eugen had been planting an array of small little love pecks onto the sensitive skin of one of the frenchman‘s thighs._

 _“There is no need for you to worry, Maximilien. I will protect you,” the duke had spoken with a low but steady voice after a few moments of heavy silence had passed, silence that had only been interrupted by their labored breathing and the sound of the soft and warm summer night‘s breeze passing through the opened window and into the royal bedroom, making the light satin curtains blow soundlessly. “Do not forget that you are the one that suggested it, Beautiful,” Karl Eugen had said with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair to keep it away from his sweat-stained forehead. He had grinned down at the still panting man beneath him, his grin showing all teeth and having been laced with an indefinable coldness that propably would have scared anyone. Anyone but Maximilien, though, who had felt a tugging in his lower stomach and had grinned back while he had cocked a teasing eyebrow, chirping, “It was a good idea of mine, was it not?” The French had moaned obscenely when Karl Eugen had bit down on the skin that he had been caressing with his lips a few moments prior and had pulled Maximilien‘s hips impossibly closer against his. “It was an idea so good that I could not have come up with a better one,” the duke of Württemberg had chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that had escaped his chest, and had, not very carefully, moved back into the position that he had fucked the redhead in before, both men moaning wantonly at the friction that it had caused. “So do not worry,” Karl Eugen had whispered as his face had been hovering mere inches above Maximilien_ ‘ _s once more, the two men sharing the same air; and the duke had twirled a strand of the French‘s curly hair around his middle finger as he had continued to whisper, “You will be safe, Maximilien. Even if His Majesty the king of Prussia will decided to take the stupid risk and act out against me, there will be limited options of what he could to do me.” Karl Eugen had circled his hips, had bottomed almost completely out of the velvety tunnel and had pushed in with one hard thrust, making _Maximilien_ whine and a cried out “I love you” pass from his “o” shaped lips. The duke‘s and the frenchman‘s lips had clashed together again when Karl Eugen had resumed his task of fucking his lover in earnest and it would have been a simple lie if Maximilien would have said, when asked, that he had not felt a twinge of jealousy when he had thought about how Karl Eugen had payed Giacomo a visit before he had turned up in his privat chambers. He had been jealous that Giacomo, too, had been fucked by the duke, not considering that it had not been consensual what the duke had done to the Italian. _Maximilien had not felt an ounce of sympathy, though, not even as he had been sitting bound to the uncomfortable chair. It had been quite the opposite, if all, for the frenchman would not have been aversed to ask Karl Eugen if it would be possible for him to be an... observer to one of the regularly happening visits. _They both had came a few moments of erratic penetration later._

Maximilien had honestly and wholeheartedly believed that Giacomo had deserved everything that Karl Eugen had done do him over the course of the month. _“Well, gorgeous, you really are nothing but a sight of pity.”_ Not because the Italian had decided to run his mouth about him, “ _They say that late revenge is even sweeter, gorgeous and I fear that their words are right. It is what you deserve for running your mouth about me.”_ , as Maximilien, in hindsight, had never cared that much about it when it had been him that had fucked Giacomo while the blond had been choking on Philippe de Lorraine‘s cock after having sucked his, after all, but for the utterly disrespectful way that the Italian had cut him off. The little he had cared about what had been said about him, the more the frenchman had been angered by the latter aspect. Maximilien had genuinly liked Giacomo, before and even after the Italian had bend him over the canapé for a round of the softest sex that Maximilien Beaumont had ever been forced to go through in his life. Oh, he had really enjoyed the way in which the blond had writhered underneath him as he had fucked into him mercilessly, how Giacomo‘s mouth had turned into a perfect “o” shape at every hard thrust against his prostate or at every smack that Maximilien would land on his upturned ass. He had fucked the Italian according to all the rules of art and like a whore; the frenchman had been very much aware that at least some of his attraction to the blond had been due to the fact that Giacomo had seemingly managed to turn the head of Friedrich of Prussia. And then, from one day to another, Giacomo had left, had blindly ran back into the man and the monarch that he had spend weeks mourning over and who had conflicted wounds onto him, wounds that had been so great that they had taken equally long to heal and fade away. Maximilien would not have gone so far as to say that he had loved the Italian, for love was a strong word that the frenchman used fairly scarcely, but he had definitely taken a liking to him and he would not have turned down further offers of intercourse, and his pride had been immensely hurt when whispers had came through to him, whispers of how some nobleman had overheard Giacomo saying how much he, Maximilien Beaumont, had annoyed him to both Philippe de Lorraine and that cousin of his, Achille Delacroix. Maximilien never would have been able to just let that hurt and disappointment sit on him. He had then, months later, ended up at the court of Karl Eugen of Württemberg, though how exactly he had not really known. It had been due to the recommendation of one of his cousins, probably, and he also had not known what event it had exactly been that had caused him to end up stradling Karl Eugen‘s lap one night, riding him while the duke had held his own legs widely spread and Maximilien‘s waist in an iron hold as he had controlled the almost brutal and ruthless rhythm with which the duke‘s cock had bore into the nobleman.

He had also not known how he and Karl Eugen had eventually developed some sort of relationship, as far as one could have actually been in a relationship with the duke that had been notorious for fucking practically everything that had legs and had failed to run away in time, no matter the gender, and had produced more children left and right than he could have counted on both of his hands. Maximilien had known this, of course, and since it had given him the freedome of keeping a few meaningless sexual partners at his side, too, he had not been bothered by it too much. The sex between him and the duke of Württemberg had been fantastic, and had definitely made up for the jealousy that had sometimes came up when he would see Karl Eugen flirt with a young embassador or the like. He had, however, known too well when the whole topic around a possible abduction of Giacomo Casanova had came up for the first time. _Maximilien had been sauntering on Karl Eugen‘s bed one late evening, naked and on his stomach, reading as he had absentmindedly been picking seeds out of a opened pomegranate fruit when the duke of Württemberg had came stormed into the his privat room, having thrown the door open so forcefully that it had banged against the wall, surely hard enough to surely have left a dent in the gilded wood of the wall paneling. Maximilien had never seen Karl Eugen‘s face tinted in such a dark shade of red, not prior and not after that evening. He had listened to Karl Eugen‘s rage-filled yells and curses and he had also watched the duke‘s wild gestured, which had aroused him in a way. Seeing the duke, who had been somewhat of a feast to one‘s eyes, enraged had turned the frenchman on, but he had tried to hide that fact as he had stayed quiet and propped up onto his elbows while Karl Eugen had paced up and down the length of the spacious room, snarling one insult at the king of Prussia after another. “He promised, he promised!” Maximilien had not flinched when the duke had slammed his fist onto the top of a chest of drawers, “He promised! I cannot let him go unpunished!” Then... he just had suggested it; where the thought had came from he had never really found out. “Have you considered targeting the king‘s lover instead?” Karl Eugen had heard about the relation between the king of Prussia and the Italian nobleman, as there really could not have been a way in which he could not have known, given how fast the news about the two had crossed through the lands of Europe. “Right,” the duke of Württemberg had drawled as he had stopped his frantic pacing to run the knuckles of his clenched hand over his lips, his mind obviously working at a rapid speed, “he is existing, too. A wonder, really, that he has willing to share his presence.” Karl Eugen had shuddered in pretentious disgust. “I did forget his name, shamefully so.”_

_“His name is Giacomo Casanova,” Maximilien had answered, sounding somewhat lost in his thought and staring into empty space as his fingers had blindly worked on the cut-open fruit beside him, and the duke had nodded slowly as if he had been building up a construct in his mind. “I do know him somewhat well.” Oh that had gained him Karl Eugen‘s unshared attention, for the duke had walked over to the bed, a smirk on his face, and had squatted down at Beaumont‘s bedside to be at an eyelevel with his french lover. “You what?” Maximilien had grinned as he had answered with a drawled out, “Yes,” and he had put another seed from the pomegranate into his mouth, sucking on it, “I met him back in Saint-Cloud.” “Is that so?” He had hummed in approval, “I fucked him, too.” “You what?”, Karl Eugen had merely repeated in a drawled-out manner, both disbelieve and surprise clearly visible on his face. The French had been downright able to see how an entire plan had seemed to construct itself behind the natural coldness of the duke‘s blue eyes as he had plopped another seed past his lips. He had looked at the still squatting Karl Eugen, a grin slowly but steadily having spread out on his face. “And from what I have heard,” he had continued with a chirping note in his voice when the duke had not spoken, “our dear king of Prussia thinks him to be of most importance. Philippe de Lorraine, who happens to be a close friend of Monsieur Casanova, has told me himself that the king has moved Casanova‘s belongings into his privat chamber not even a week after they had first met. And, well, if you consider that the queen herself is not even allowed to enter the palace at all, that the king has ordered for her to live in an entirely different city...” Maximilien had known that he and Karl Eugen had been thinking the exact same thing; their eyes had told it all. Karl Eugen had let out a huff as he had raised back up into a straight posture to resume his aggrevated pacing. “But how,” the outraged duke had drummed his clenched fists against his thighs, he had needed a ventile for his sheer anger, “how can I - I cannot just send some of my men to snatch him away right from underneath his eyes!” Maximilien had not answered, for he had believed that it had been wiser to let Karl Eugen talk his anger out and for how long he had laid on the bed, propped up on his elbows and listening to the duke‘s angered speech, he had not known, but it must had been close to half an hour before Karl Eugen had flopped down, face first, onto the bed beside his lover. Maximilien had smiled when the duke had began to knead his backside cheeks, a bit too hard for it to have been a gesture of comfort, and he had turned his head to be able to look at the blond, “You should still send a few men to Potsdam.” “Huh?” Karl Eugen had met the frenchman‘s gaze with noticable confusion, his hand still on Maximilien‘s upturned backside. “Not officially, of course.” “For what?” “To test out the waters,” Maximilien had answered as if it had been clear as day and had shifted his gaze back to the pomegranate, “there are always people that are willing to talk for money. I believe that you already know that.”_

_“You surprise me more and more every day,” Karl Eugen had said, swatting the backside cheek that he had kneading before and thus making the frenchman blush at the praise that had filled his chest._ The duke of Württemberg had indeed send some of his most trusted men to Prussia, and just as Maximilien had predicted later on it had not taken more than a week before Karl Eugen had found a reliable source within the closest circle of the king of Prussia himself. The frenchman, one the other hand, had done his part by having build up a somewhat steady correspondence through letters with both Philippe de Lorraine and Giacomo, though he had only ever gotten answering letters from de Lorraine. Maximilien and Karl Eugen had managed to build up a steady construct in no real time, after they had found a few more sources of information and a few more people that had been willing to talk. If Maximilien had known that the duke had extorted the majority? No, but it would no have changed anything if he had known. Their plan had reached its turning point one late evening, when Maximilien had been given a letter by one of Karl Eugen‘s delivery boys. _The frenchman had closed the door of the royal chamber before he had removed the wax seal from the parchment, reading the lines that seemingly had been written in a hurry as he had walked back towards the balcony where he and the duke of Württemberg had been enjoying the summer‘s night over a pitcher of red wine between them. “Who is it from?”, Karl Eugen had asked while he had swirled the content of glass and Maximilien had passed him the letter wordlessly, a smirk growing on his face when he had sat back down in his chair and had watched how the duke‘s eyes had flown over the lines. When Karl Eugen had looked up, thus making their gazes meet, their had been a grin on his as well as his lover‘s face. “Well,” Karl Eugen had said with a light chuckle in his voice after he had folded the letter close to put it into the pocket on the inside of his waistcoat, patting it almost protectively, “I certainly did not expect for it to fall into our hands so easily.” Maximilien, too, had chuckled and had raised his glass to accept the toast that Karl Eugen had offered. The clinking of the glasses had spiked their laughter on; it truly had fallen into their hands as if it had been nothing but the easiest children‘s game. “Now we only need to find out the exact route that the king‘s sweet whore is going to take and,” the duke of Württemberg had snapped the fingers of his free hand and if Maximilien had felt a stab of sudden uncertainty, he had decided to ignore it for it would have been too late to change Karl Eugen‘s mind even if the French would have wanted to do it. “Oh, I promise that I will fuck you so hard as a thank you for this,” Karl Eugen had said as if it had been the most casual thing for him to do, but Maximilien‘s composure had been steady enough to prevent him from blushing furiously. “Is that so,” the French had merely chirped over the rim of his glass, taking a few small sips from the dark red liquid. “I assure you, Beautiful.” It had been as unnecessary for Karl Eugen to asure Maximilien just as much as it had not been necessary for Maximilien to doubt the duke‘s words, for the French had been moaning and writhing and gasping on the mattress while Karl Eugen had tried to keep his squirming hips still as he had fucked into him a short while later._

Maximilien had needed to chuckle at his own memories, which definitely could have seemed weird, considering that he had been reveling in his thoughts in silence, when he had been able to downright see the image of Giacomo kneeling between Karl Eugen‘s spread legs in front of his inner eye again. Oh, it had been a sight good enough to result in a dozen wet dreams. _“Long time no see.”_ The way that Giacomo‘s head had snapped around, and the way that he had looked at Maximilien with wide, fear-filled and disbelieving eyes had made Maximilien wish that it were _his_ legs that the Italian had been forced to kneel between, and that it had been his instead of Karl Eugen‘s hand that had been burried in that soft blond hair. What an incredible sight it had been! Maximilien, however, had been pulled out of the haziness of his thought and back into the there and then, were he had been arrested, bound to a chair and awaiting the head of the king of Prussia‘s security, when he had heard the rattling of the guard‘s armor as the Prussian had stepped away to allow the door do be opened and for multiple pairs of feet to enter and close in on the French. “That is him, Sire, the one your men have arrested in the privat chamber of the duke.” Having only turned his head to the side when the two men had came to stand next to him, Maximilien had made sure that he had been showing the best innocent smile that he could have managed. “I was not aware that it is a crime to seek the... intimate presence of a monarch, _Your Majesty_ , ” he had said in a tone that had, with his silkiness, almost perfectly mirrored that of the duke of Württemberg. “Is that the reason why _Your Majesty_ has come here? To punish your own little whore for seeking the presence of _Your Majesty_?” The smile on Maximilien‘s face had turned into into a smirk once he had seen how the king of Prussia had trembled where he had stood not even two meters away from the French, and it had brought joy to Maximilien‘s heart when he had noticed just how pale the king had been around his nose. _Oh Karl, our plan has worked out perfectly!_ “Be mindful of your tongue,” the king‘s valet, and head of security, had snarled. Wilhelm‘s eyes had only lingered on the ginger-haired frenchman for a short moment before he had shifted his gaze back to his king, highly worried about Friedrich‘s well-being. “Open disrespect against His Majesty will not go by unpunished, Beaumont,” the valet had continued as he had left the French‘s side to take a seat behind the desk of his makeshift office, opening a drawer. “Oh _please_ I beg you,” Maximilien had rolled his eyes, and he had shaken his head in an exaggerated manner before he had tilted it, “am I not being punished enough? The chair is not very comfortable to sit in.” Friedrich had snorted in disbelieve, but the arrested had spoken again before he could have done so. “I am in absolute wonder that the royal _slut_ ,” Maximilien had drawled out, a provocative smile on his face as his eyes had switched between the valet and the king of Prussia, “managed to sit on it for two entire days. Ah, I forgot,” he had clicked his tongue, “he did not really have a different choice, did he?”

The frenchman had chuckled at his own words as if they had been of the greatest humor, clearly amused by them as well as the certainty that, even if the king of Prussia and his men would try, they would never be able to get to him. Maximilien‘s musing enjoyment had been cut short, however, when Friedrich had backhanded him across his face, hard enough to cause his head to snap to one side, the sound of skin hitting skin resounding in the room. “Be assured that you will be punished more than adequately,” the king of Prussia had pressed out through his clenched teeth after he had leaned down to enter the French‘s space, his mouth having turned into a snarl as he had grabbed Maximilien‘s face almost brutally. Friedrich‘s fingers had dug deeply into Maximilien‘s cheeks, and he had used the hold he had to force the frenchman to tilt his head back in order to get a better look at him. “And considering said coming punishment you would be very wise to watch the way that you, as a lowlife, are speaking about _him_.” Maximilien had huffed a laugh when his face had finally been released from the king of Prussia‘s hold again. He had licked away the blood that had collected in a corner of his mouth from the sheer force of the hit that had been planted onto the side of his face, and he had chuckled once more as he had watched how Friedrich had first taken one, then another step away from him with his fists clenched at his sides before the king of Prussia had eventually turned around and marched to the far back of the room. Friedrich had been very much aware that he propably could have, and very well would have, beaten the frenchman to death with his own bare hands if he would not put some sort of safety distance between them; in that moment he had hated the French as much as he had hated the duke of Württemberg, with the only lucky difference being that he could actually take revenge when it had came to the frenchman. To imagine that the ginger-haired man had been a friend of his Giacomo and had betrayed him in the worst possible way had only made Friedrich want to backhand him a dozen more times, if not worse. But he had known that he had needed to wait, that there had still been a few question that had needed to be answered before he could exert his revenge. Not only his, but Giacomo‘s too, of course. Friedrich had leaned against the wall in the far back of the room, his position allowing him to be an observer of the scene and to communicate with Wilhelm, his valet and head of security, through gazes and gestures without being seen by the arrested nobleman. The valet had since found what he had been searching the desk‘s drawers for and he had set the stack of folded parchment, _letters_ , down onto the table in front of him as if they had stood for a promise before he had folded his hands, had rested them, too, on the table top and had leaned over the piece of furniture. Maximilien had told himself that he had not felt a hot flush rise in him, neither when he had spotted the letters he had instinctively identified as his nor when the valet had spoken again. _“There is no need for you to worry, Maximilien. I will protect you.”_ “Now, Monsieur Beaumont, tell me: how exactly is your relationship to Karl Eugen of Württemberg to be defined?” Maximilien had sensed it, and Friedrich had known that it had been a quite unnecessary question, for everyone, including the guard, had been aware of the bond between the duke and the nobleman.

“What does that matter,” the frenchman had snarled, snapping his mouth shut when he had realized that his voice had been nowhere as steady as he had believed and wanted it to be. “It does matter. Essentially whether you meet the fate of your death by being hanged, drawn and quartered, for the attack on His Majesty the king of Prussia's authority and treason, or through a simple beheading.” “You - you cannot charge me with anything,” Maximilien had spoken without being really aware of doing it, for his heart had dreaded to stop beating. “I am French nobility, not a Prussian. You have no jurisdiction over my person here.” It had then been Friedrich‘s turn to chuckle, who had stood with his back leaned against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. The flinch that the frenchman had seemingly given without being able to stop himself had been an utterly enjoyable sight. _I am doing this for you, my Sanssouci_. “The king of France will not interveine,” he had said, a self-satisfied smirk easily overplaying his fatigue and irritability. “A messenger has already been send to France, the king will not dare to interveine for the peace between Prussia and France is too important and too fragile to allow him to act.” Maximilien had allowed his eyes to stay closed for a few short seconds before he had reopened them and had looked at the valet with a blank and unreadable expression, trying and thankfully succeeding at putting up a front of braveness. “Where is the His Grace? I wish to speak to him.” The valet had switched his gaze over to Friedrich almost as if he had sensed that it had been the king of Prussia that had wanted to answer. “He is currently residing in the cell of his own palace.” “What?”, Maximilien had breathed out, his blood then very audibly rushing in his ears. _It cannot be, it cannot be, this cannot be true!_ “You have heard me right the first time,” Friedrich had drawled, shifting a bit in his position. He had not cared that he probably should not be enjoying what had been happening so much, for he had known that he never would have enjoyed it so if it had not been the man that had caused his lover to fall into the hands of Karl Eugen in the first place. “He, too, has been arrested.” “Are you going to talk on your own now or do you require... persuasion,” Wilhelm had said with one hand of his resting upon the stack of letters, tapping it. “I believe that you, Monsieur Beaumont, are aware of the fact that you cannot deny your involvement in the plotting and the execution of the act high treason against His Majesty, the king of Prussia.” Maximilien had stared blantly ahead as he had let the valet‘s words wash over him. He had known, in that moment, that he would not survive it. “What we did,” the French had spoken after taking in a deep breath, exhaling it together with his words, “was right, and I will stand behind it until my life will end.” He had meant it, too, for he believed that it had all been worth it. He had not really been able to explain it, but he had fully stood behind his words and that certainty had made a surge of defiance rise in him, for he had sat up a bit straighter, as far as he could have with his hands bound, to shot a dark look at the king of Prussia from over his shoulder.

“It is what he deserves for being a whore and for betraying me,” Maximilien had growled, his hands clenched into fists while he had tried to wind out of the restrains around his wrist. “He got exactly what he deserved to get.” That he probably had just gambled away his last chance of, maybe, hindering his head from being parted from his shoulders, had not been present in the frenchman‘s consciousness. Friedrich had tried to stay calm, he really had. He had tried to keep his seething anger in silence as much as he had tried to keep his hands unclenched, not because he had liked to come over as especially composured, but because he had needed to due to his title as the king of Prussia. Sure, he theoretically could have gone into a full-blown fit of range that would have mirrored the behaviour of Friedrich Wilhelm, but with him being on such thin ice, politically speaking, and considering the promise that he had made to himself after his father‘s death, Friedrich had tried to stay calm. Oh, but he had not known if there had been a time in his life where he had been more furious, his anger being spiked on by the frenchman‘s words. Having been as lost in his fuming as he had been Friedrich had lost the thread of the conversation that had went on between the valet and the French, and the king of Prussia had only snapped back into the there and then when he had seen how the ginger-haired man had shifted in the chair to look at him with narrowed eyes and a cold smirk. _“It is what he deserves for being a whore and for betraying me. He got exactly what he deserved to get.”_ The snarled words of the frenchman had not hit Friedrich, even if they had happened to be directed at him. They had been dedicated to Giacomo, his beautiful and gentle Giacomo, and it had been a dozen times worse than if they had truly been thrown at the king of Prussia. He himself could have dealt with it very well, for he merely would have ignored the comments. But when it had came to Giacomo, who had most likely still been asleep a few floors above Friedrich and busy fighting a few that could easily cost him his life, Friedrich had not possessed such ability of ignorance. “He was your friend,” he had snarled, his voice quavering from the sheer amount of emotion behind it. “Your friend!” Something seemed to have loosened inside of him, something that had made it impossible for Friedrich to continue standing there and so he had strode back over to the French to grad a fistfull of his hair and tilt his head back, far enough to surely cause a strain to his neck. “He was not my _friend_ ,” Maximilien had answered, his voice sounding cut-off from the unnatural curving of his neck and Friedrich had felt the sudden urge to take his cane and strike it across the French‘s face like his father had done it to him countless of times. “I fucked him a couple of times, that does not make us friends.” Maximilien had known that he had been grasping for straws, but the look on the king‘s face had been reward enough. “Oh, was Your Majesty not aware of that?”, he had made a “tsk”ing sound, “I apologize.” “When,” Friedrich had managed to bring out, the hand that had been holding his cane at his side twitching. _If the frenchman had joined Karl Eugen to violate -_ “After he had fled to Saint-Cloud from your abuse, _Your Majesty_. It had been a truly joy-filled time.”

 _His fault._ The frenchman had not needed to speak it out directly for Friedrich to feel the accusation much like a blow to his stomach, and Maximilien had the usual provocating smirk on his lips as his hair had been let go off. “Willhelm, is there any other information that we need to get from him,” the king of Prussia had spoken with a voice flat from exhaustion, tightening the hold he had on his cane and taking a step backwards. He had looked at the valet rather than the French, hoping that Wilhelm would get the hint and to his immense relief, the other man had indeed caught on. “We do not yet know the names of those involved from your court, Sire,” Wilhelm had said with some hesitation, his well-trained eye regarding the king had very well seen that he had not been in a good state, emotionally and mentally. “I do not know their names,” Maximilien had answered before the valet had gotten the chance to ask him. The valet had cocked an eyebrow, “Yes, I am sure that you do not,” and had leaned a bit further over the table. “Even if you do not comply,” he had said, gesturing to the stack of letters, “there will be trails leading to those who dared to betray His Majesty.” “Why in God‘s grace should I comply?” Maximilien‘s voice had grown louder and he, too, had leaned forwards, bringing his and the valet‘s face closer together, “I will be executed one way or another.” “Congratulations, _Monsieur Beaumont_ ,” Friedrich had spoken, as flatly as before, a humorless smirk tugging up one corner of his mouth, “you have predicted your own sentence.” The frenchman had been pale-tainted from the beginning, but after Friedrich had spoken the last bit of color had left his face, and Friedrich, as well as the valet, had easily seen that the construct inside of him had began to crumble. Maximilien had quickly averted his gaze down, rather staring at his knees. _“There is no need for you to worry, Maximilien. I will protect you.”_ He had swallowed hard down his dry throat. Karl Eugen had not been there to protect you because he, too, had been arrested. “Take him away,” the king of Prussia had said before he had shifted his gaze over to the French. “You will meet your fate as the first thing in the morning, and word will be send to your family.” Beaumont had not attempted to escape when the guard had stepped forward to cut the rope from around his wrists and replace them with iron shackles, and neither had he struggled when he had been roughly grabbed by his neck, pulled onto his feet and hauled out of the room in manner that usually would have been degrading for a nobleman. “Sire?” Friedrich had unvoluntarily flinched when Wilhelm had spoken up, not having realized that he had spend a good few minutes in silence while staring at the spot where the frenchman had been sitting. He had blinked slowly with eyelids that had suddenly felt so much more heavy. “Do you wish me to -” “Do not,” Friedrich had cut the valet off with a weak wave of his hand. “Not now, Wilhelm. Not now.” The valet had bowed his head before he had hurried off, leaving the king of Prussia alone in the deafening silence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that we still haven't reached the *cough* biggest event of Beaumont's life but there's just so much that needs to happen between Friedrich and Giacomo... <3
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Friedrich had exhaled shudderingly and had staggered around the writing desk to sink down into the chair that had stood behind it as soon as the valet had closed the door behind him and had left Friedrich‘s presence. The following intake of breath that he had drawn in had sounded suspiciously like a sob that he had failed to surpress, and Friedrich had leaned forward to rest his elbows on the top of the table and to bury his face in his hands. He had not been crying, but his shoulders had been trembling from the sheer force that it had taken him to not do so. Friedrich, in that moment, had been utterly drained; what he had heard and the things that he had seen that day had consumed the last bit of energy that he had possessed as his last reserve. The fact that his poor, poor Giacomo had never stood a chance but to endure all that had happened to him, that Giacomo had been a victim of the duke of Württemberg‘s anger, over the king of Prussia‘s refusal, and sick revenge fantasies because of _his_ actions, because he, as the king of Prussia and thus the highest instance, had not considered the warnings that had been brought to him to have been true. He had been the one that had allowed Giacomo to leave him and to go on the journey and it had also been him who had taken a month until he had been able to free his lovers from within the duke of Württemberg‘s cruel grasp. The events that had taken place had been very painful in themselves, excruciating even, but what had really caused Friedrich‘s heart to shatter had been the changes that Giacomo had most definitely went through in the course of the month that had passed. The Italian had left Potsdam as healthy as he could have been, and almost as happy, too, a smiling man in the very prime of his life but when Friedrich had been able to lay eyes upon him after the ordeal, he had been pale, sickly and utterly terrified. Wide eyes had looked at Friedrich as if Giacomo had believed that he had been seeing a ghost instead - _“It was an endearing sight, really, you know, to hear and see him cry for you every time that I fucked him. It was almost as endearing as seeing the light fade from his eyes when I told him that his beloved Friedrich would not be coming for him.”_ \- as if seeing Friedrich had been something that the Italian had never expected to live to experience again. Pale and dressed in nothing but a thin nightdress, Giacomo had looked like he had belonged to the world of the dead instead of the living.

The king of Prussia‘s breath had hitched when he had been once more hit with the images of Giacomo trashing in his arms like a sheep would to in the hold of a knife wielding butcher. He had known that he would never be able to ever forget that sight, and neither the sound of Giacomo‘s helpless cries, but the certainty that he had arrested those that had been responsible for his lover‘s suffering had indeed been a solace, though a much smaller one that Friedrich had hoped it would be. Running both hands over his face in one rough and tired motion he had shifted in the chair to lean further back into it, though straightening his posture and grabbing his cane not even a minute later. He had shaken his head in disbelieve at his own behaviour, what had he been sitting around for, breaking his mind on what had happened, when there had been someone waiting for him, someone who had probably needed him the most? A haste smile had ghosted over Friedrich‘s face as he had rose into a standing position, had straightened his waistcoat and had made his way out of the dimly illuminated room with just the slightest of limps. He had not noticed how much time had passed for he had been too busied with the fuming and the events that he had missed the setting of the sun and the beginning of dusk. There had been much fewer people out and about in the corridors then, the few soldiers that had not been alseep in the tents had stood dutifully in their guarding posts, which they had been ordered to take, saluting and greeting the king as Friedrich had passed by them on the way to the grande escalier. It had been no real surprise to him when he had seen his valet standing at the foot of the staircase, holding his hands loosely behind his back while he had been speaking to an advisor, who had hurried off before Friedrich had even came close to the valet‘s side. “Sire.” Wilhelm had bowed his head and had changed the position he had been standing in as the king of Prussia had came to a halt a short distance away from him. “The French has been taken to a cell, Sire.” “Good,” Friedrich had answered after a short pause, shifting his weight from his healthy lef over to his hurting one for just the split of a second, wincing as the pressure had caused a bright flash of pain to emerge from the injured knee. He had leaned heavily onto his cane, “I will not speak with the duke today.” The valet had been visibly confused by his decision, for he had blinked fast as he had spoken, “May I ask why you are choosing not do to so, Sire.” “The main reason for that, Wilhelm, would frankly be that I do not trust myself enough,” the king of Prussia had retorted, without any emotion but with a determination that had left no room for negotiations; not that the valet would have said anything against the king‘s words. “As much as I personally long for him to suffer he is untouchable for me. Do make sure that he will be released in the early hours of the coming morning.” “May I, once more, ask for the reason behind your decision, Sire?” “I want him to be released so that he can watch it.”

It had been all that Friedrich had said before he had turned towards the stairs that would take someone to the upper floors, as there had been no need for him to elaborate what he had meant by what he had said. The valet had easily understood, for he had nodded and bowed his head as an answer, even if the king had not been able to see it. The way up the stairs had seemed to get longer the more steps Friedrich had taken and he had gritted his teeth when he had very well felt his valet‘s eyes on his back as he had taken one pained step after another, one hand clutching his cane while the other had been holding onto the stone railing. Wilhelm, on his part, had been wise enough to not offer his help but yet he had contiued to stand at the bottom of the stairs until the king of Prussia had reached the top before he, deeply burried in his thoughts, had retreated to his own makeshift chamber. Friedrich had stopped on top of the stairs just for a mere short moment, to catch his hitching breath, before he had tightened the hold on his cane and had taken the turn to the left and into the wing of the palace in which his lover had been rommed. He had almost flinched and yelped however when a hooded person had moved into his path from where it had stood at the wall opposite of the door that would lead to Giacomo‘s room. “Good evening, Your Majesty.” Friedrich‘s eyebrows had shot up until they had almost reached his hairline, when he had recognized the person as the chambermaid who had been more involved with Giacomo‘s situation than Friedrich had ever believed one could be. She had been the one to write the letter, to get the message from the Italian, and she had also been the one that had showed the king of Prussia to the room that his lover had been kept as a prisoner in. Realizing what she had just done by startling the monarch the chambermaid had taken a few quick steps backwards, her hands nervously fidgeting with the apron around her waist. “I apologize, Your Majesty. I did not think about it.” Friedrich had merely nodded, for he had been too drained to scold her with honesty. “Do tell me what you are doing here at this time of night.” The chambermaid had bowed her head once more, “My help was requested by the doctor, Your Majesty. I brough him a bowl of clean water and cloths, Your Majesty.” Friedrich had felt a cold rush flooding over him, making goosebumps appear on his back, and his eyes had narrowed dangerously as he had stared down at the chambermaid, his voice an equally dangerously low one, “And why in God‘s name was I not notified of it?”, he had snarled at the woman before he had moved around her to strode over to the door. He had forced himself to turn the knob and open it slowly instead of throwing it open like he would have liked to do it.

There he had been. His Giacomo. Friedrich‘s eyes had fallen upon him the very moment that he had peaked his head inside the room and though no more than a few hours had passed since he had last seen him, it had still been overwhelming to the king of Prussia. Giacomo had been propped up on a stack of pillows, and his eyes had been barely opened as he had, most likely, followed the work of the doctor, who had applied what must had been a soothing balm onto the wound that had crossed Giacomo‘s chest like a canyon. Friedrich probably should have walked into the room and, most importantly, close the door behind him to preserve his lover‘s dignity and privacy, but he had found himself to be glued to the spot, so as if he had been sacred of somehow disturbing the scene that had been going on or, even worse, frighten him again. So he had continued to stand there with just his head peaking into the room, watching how the physician had done his task with fast and skilled movements, how he had soothed the few pained moans that had came from his patient, and how Giacomo had answered to the lowly-spoken questions of the doctor with even quieter whispers that Friedrich had not been able to catch. The Prussian had almost stopped breathing when Giacomo had moved his chapped and blood-crusted lips, barely so, to voice something out that only the doctor had catched, and the younger man‘s head had sunken back down onto the feathery pillow after his whispered words had been met with an agreeing nod. The Italian‘s eyelids had been moving as slow and sluggishly as his lips had done it, but for Friedrich it had been enough to see him somewhat awake at least. He had given himself a jolt to finally move, and it had only been the sound of the door being closed by Friedrich which had alerted the doctor of the king‘s presence. The doctor truly must not have noticed him before, as he had looked over his shoulder with a startled look on his face before he had hurried to get off the bed he had been kneeling on to properly greet the king of Prussia. “Your Majesty,” the physician had kept his head bowed as Friedrich had walked over to him, and Friedrich‘s stomach had clenched uncomfortably when he had seen how the doctor had been cleaning his hands with a cloth that had been stained with blood. _Giacomo‘s blood_. “How is he,” he had asked, his voice unusally quiet and his gaze firmly locked on his lover, whose breathing had since evened out as he had been blinking just as sluggishly. “The fever is still present, Your Majesty, but it has not risen,” the physician had said as he had continued to clean his hands of the balm and he must had followed Friedrich‘s gaze as he, too, had turned his attention back towards his patient before he had continued. “Which is exceptionally good, Your Majesty.” Friedrich had tried to not let his sigh be too audible, but had failed at that, and his shoulders had slumped a bit from the wave of relief that had washed over him. Maybe there had been good things to follow after those of horror. “Will he live?”, he had asked, forcing his eyes away from Giacomo and to the physician, sterness behind them, “I expect nothing but honesty.”

“I have been a trained doctor for over twenty years, Your Majesty, and with my experience I am comfortable with saying that I fully expect the Sire to make a complete recovery. He will live, Your Majesty. I am sure of it.” The doctor had finally finished cleaning his hands and had folded the cloth before he had placed it on the bed, next to the bowl of tinted red water and the other medical utensils that he had brought with him. “When have you been called here?” The doctor had tilted his head, “I have not been called, Your Majesty. I have informed Your Majesty that I would come and check on the Sire‘s condition at nightfall.” Friedrich had just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes as he had remembered that the physician had indeed told him that. “Yes, of course you did so. I do know that you would not be called without it being reported to me.” “I doubt it too, Your Majesty.” Friedrich had shifted his weight from one foot to the other, putting most of his weight onto his cane. “Will you come again in the morning? To tend to him.” “I will, Your Majesty. It a great honor to be allowed to do so.” The king of Prussia would have liked to snarl at the mention of _honor_ , what kind of honor could the physician get from treating the king‘s lover because of the behaviour of the duke that he had stood under. Sure, it had been a set phrase but Friedrich simply could not hear it; he had dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “The only thing that is relevant is that you will make him live.” He had not been sure whether or not he had wanted his words to come out as the snarled warning that they eventually had, and Friedrich had moved and towards the other side of the bed without waiting for an answer from the physician. “Of course, Your Majesty,” the doctor had eventually answered, sounding a bit abashed, “I will be giving my all.” Friedrich had stood completely still as he had watched, once more and as a bystander, how the doctor the doctor had worked fast to bind a new bandage across Giacomo‘s chest, an action which had required the younger man to sit up. “Sire,” the physician had spoken with a trained soothing voice, and he had laid a hand onto Giacomo‘s upper arm to shake him gently, forcing him to open his eyes a bit more. “Sire, I need you to sit up.” _God, he is utterly exhausted_ had been the conclusion that Friedrich had came to as he had been met with the heartwrenching sight of Giacomo seemingly collecting the very little strength that he had left in his feverous condition to stem himself onto his hands, his arms trembling like aspen leaves as they had kept him up, barely so. Friedrich had doubted that Giacomo had really perceived him being there, with the younger‘s mind clouded as Friedrich had known that it would most likely be. The only time he had suffered from a fever, the fortnight after Katte‘s execution, he, too, had not been aware of his surroundings and the time that had passed by him. He had longed to reach out, to gently plant his hand onto Giacomo‘s shoulder and to help him stay upright in the sitting position, but his lover had already been trembling and Friedrich had feared that his touch would throw him into another panicked fit which, considering Giacomo‘s condition, would have surely caused gravely harm.

“You can lie back down, Sire,” the doctor had said, gently patting Giacomo‘s upper arm and Friedrich had felt his blood starting to boil when the physician seemingly had not noticed how the meant-well touch had made the younger man flinch. Oh, the anger that had been present in Friedrich! “Would you be done for now?”, Friedrich had asked, successfully managing to keep the biggest part of his anger out of his voice. The doctor had nodded, and he had rolled the rest of the bandage back up before he had started to pack the other utensils back into his bag as soon as Giacomo had been laying on the pillows again. “Yes, Your Majesty.” “Good then.” Friedrich had not said anything further, not even when the physician had taken his bag and had bid him a “Good night, Your Majesty” as he had left the room. “Fr - Friedrich?” He had not known what he had expected as he had stared into the empty air, which had been filled by the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears and Giacomo‘s raspy breathing, but the breathed out sigh of his name, so heartbreakingly desperate, had not been it. Friedrich had not been able to properly react for a good long moment from being as stunned as he had been, and he had only snapped back into the there and then when another sigh of his name had followed the first one. “I am here, Sanssouci, I am here,” he had hastened to whisper as he had lowered into a squatting position, paying no mind to the protest which had came from his aching leg. He surely would have liked to sit down on the bed instead, but he had doubted that Giacomo would have appreciated and been comfortable with it - and it had been a realization a lot more painful than his leg, utterly heatbreaking even. With him squatting down and Giacomo resting on the pillows, Friedrich had been below the younger man‘s eyelevel, and he had gripped at the mattress with both hands in order to keep his balance as well as to stop himself from accidentally reaching out. Giacomo, in that moment, had been like a higher being, like something that he, as the king of Prussia and yet a mere mortal, had not been allowed to touch and it had tore at the strings of his heart when he had momentarilly wondered about whether he would ever be allowed to touch him again. _Just the most simple touch of his fingers against Giacomo‘s cheek, or maybe even the feeling of their fingers brushing against each other before they would interlock..._ It had been long gone memories that had showed him just how much he had apparently lost. The sound that the younger man had let out at Friedrich‘s words had been one with a close resemblance to those of a waking-up man, and Friedrich had been spellbound when Giacomo had rolled his head over into his direction, the blond‘s eyelids still dropping and his lips barely parting. “You came.”

It had been no more than two words that Giacomo had breathed out, barely catchable and thus standing for a streak of luck themselves, considering that Friedrich had caught them at all, but those two words had been enough to cause the façade that the king of Prussia had laboriously put up to crumble into nothing but a pile of ash. Tears had shot into his eyes from one second to another and he had failed miserably when he had tried to swallow down the lump which had formed in his throat and had threatened to suffocate him. “I am sorry that it has taken me so long, Giacomo, my love,” he had whispered, “I am so sorry,” very well aware of just how ridiculous it must have sounded to his lover‘s ears. What good could it possibly do that _he_ , who had caused it all in the first place, had been sorry for the horrors that Giacomo had been forced to go through? The few moments of complete silence between his plea and Giacomo‘s answer had seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly, slow enough to make Friedrich fear for the worst. Though if he would have been honest with himself, he would have neeeded to admit it, also to himself, that it would have been within Giacomo‘s absolute rights to blame him for what had happened, as it truly had been his, and only his, fault. Friedrich‘s vision had been blurred by tears and he had needed to avert his eyes away from his lover‘s face for he had felt like the worst man on earth as he had been squatting at the side of Giacomo‘s bed. “Did you -”, Giacomo‘s slurred sentence had been cut in two by an intake of breath, “really give up on me?” Friedrich‘s head had dropped, so low that his chin had touched his chest; even though he had known by then that Karl Eugen had let Giacomo live with the lie of him, Friedrich, having decided to ignore and not help him, hearing it from Giacomo had felt like another pinch of salt in the open wound of his heart. “He lied to you, Giacomo. I have been looking for you from the day I found out that you have been taken.” He had almost spoken it out like an apology, and his head had snapped back up when he, to his horror, had perceived a supressed sob that the younger man had failed to keep in him. “Sanssouci -” The sight Giacomo had been providing him with had been absolutely devestating, the paleness of his face having long been replaced by the red flush that the fever had unmistakably caused, his eyes heavily lidded and equally tear-filled as Friedrich‘s and his chin had been trembling when he had turned his head away from Friedrich again as soon as the older man had looked up. Giacomo‘s mind had still been dizzy and wrapped in clouds, he would have liked to understand what had been going on but he had not been able to grasp a single sense-making thought. He had been tired, oh so tired, and he would have liked to sleep, as his heavy eyelids and hurting head had corroborated, but there had been the underlying fear in him that had hindered him from falling back into the arms of the fever-fueled sleep; the fear of Karl Eugen coming to pay another visit to him. It had been the conflict within him that had pushed him over the verge of tears, for he had seen Friedrich as nothing more than a vision that his fever had eventually to be more realistic than the other ones that he had been met with before.

Friedrich had been there, had been talking to him but Giacomo had known that if they would have touched, Friedrich would have been no more than a breath of wind grazing his fingers. _“He lied to you, Giacomo. I have been looking for you from the day I found out that you have been taken.”_ Oh, his longing to really hear those words must had been so strong that his mind had made them up, had made him believe that they had been truly spoken to him and it had broken his heard. He had been tired, his body as well as his mind had been; he had just wanted to sleep... To sleep, to be free of pain and to be with Friedrich again. Alarmed by the sudden change in the younger man‘s behaviour Friedrich had raised into a standing position, his brows narrowed with worry. “Giacomo -” Friedrich‘s whole entire world had seemed to have stopped turning when Giacomo had suddenly held onto his forearm with a weak grip and Friedrich, if he would have wanted to, could have easily broke free of it. He had laid his hand onto his lover‘s without thinking about it for a second, squeezing it reassuringly. Whether it had been his intention to prove that he would not be leaving he had not known, and he had squeezed Giacomo‘s hand a bit tighter when the younger had let out another choked sob, so as if he had been completely baffled by Friedrich doing so. The king of Prussia could not have known that Giacomo truly had not expected to grasp into something that had not been thin air. “Friedrich...” Every call of his name had caused the tear in Friedrich‘s heart to grow bigger and had showed him just how worse the situation had really been for the both of them. “I am here, my love, I am here. I will not leave you alone again.” He had swallowed hard as he had taken in the way that Giacomo‘s eyes had hazily moved around, not able to focus on one particular spot and thus showing how much the fever had enclouded the younger man‘s consciousness. “You really came?” Giacomo‘s voice had sounded a lot more slurred by then and Friedrich, again, had not hesitated before he had sat down on the edge of the bed, manoeuvring a bit so that his arm would not slip out of his lover‘s week hold. The smile that had appeared on Friedrich‘s face had faded away when he had repeated what he had spoken a short while ago, “I am sorry that it has taken me so long, my love. I am so sorry.” Giacomo had felt the mattress dipping from the weight of another person - _Friedrich_ , he had been there. _He came_. He had not known how, and neither had he known why. The only thing that Giacomo had known before he had perceived nothing but darkness had been the certainty that it had been Friedrich‘s voice speaking softly to him and that it had been Friedrich‘s hand that had been so gently holding and caressing his and with the security of Friedrich being there at his side, Giacomo had allowed gravity to win the battle with his eyelids. “Shh, Sanssouci,” Friedrich had continued to whisper in some sort of mantra even after Giacomo‘s eys had dropped cloe, carefully removing his lover‘s limp arm from where it had slid down into the crook of his arm to securely take it into both of his hands, not caring that it had left him unable to wipe at the tears that had been making their ways down his face.

“Be calm, my love, I am here. He cannot hurt you, he will never hurt you ever again.” Friedrich had needed to repeat those words out loud and over and over again, even if Giacomo had not been able to hear him from within the depth of his sleep. He had continued to repeat them while he had silently wept, his shoulders slumped but his hands never letting go of Giacomo‘s. The wave of relief that had flooded over him when he had realized that Giacomo had been the first to reach out, that he had reached out for him, had been immense, setting the fire of hope lit all over again. Maybe they would turn out alright, with a lot of time and a lot of care. Oh, Friedrich would provide Giacomo with the best possible treatments as soon as the younger would be in a condition stable enough to travel back to Potsdam. He had not known how late the hour had been but the room, which had been illuminated by a single candle holder, had not been furnished with a clock, and thus had been unaware of how much time had passed, but Friedrich had continued to sit there, watching his lover‘s bandaged chest rise and fall steadily and listen to Giacomo‘s labored breathing, squeezing his hand every now and then to show that he had still been there. He had very well known that it probably would have been wise if he would have seeked the refuge of his makeshift sleeping chamber, for he had been utterly drained, especially emotionally, and the following day would most surely be strenuous, but no matter how exhausted Friedrich had been - he had been parted from Giacomo for far too long to be able to sleep seperated from him. So he had stayed, right there sitting at his lover‘s sickbed, holding his hand and watching him sleep while having to fight his own urge to keep his eyelids closed. It must had been deep into the hours of the night when Friedrich had eventually lay Giacomo‘s hand down onto the blanket, all so gently; he had not wanted to leave but the ache in his leg had forced him to do so. The king of Prussia had bend down to collect his cane off the floor before he had slowly stood up, putting most of his weight onto the cane and trying to move as quiet as he could have in order to not wake the sleeping man, and he had limped over to the single-winged window of the room. It had stood open for some time and the warm summer night‘s breeze that had been flowing in had hit against Friedrich‘s face in an almost soothing way, soon drying the wetness on his face and leaving only the stickiness of the salt behind. He had gazed outside into the dark where the stars had stood brightly on the dark sky above him, downright forcing the turning of the gearwheels inside of his mind to stop. He had not wanted to think as much as he _could_ not think when he had gazed upwards with dull eyes, feeling strangely empty after he had stopped crying but also at peace, in an inexplicable way. Friedrich had sniffled once and had turned halfway to look at Giacomo, who had let out a whimpering sound in his sleep. He had smiled, though why, he had not known. Maybe it had been due to the hope of salvation which Friedrich had hoped would be blessed upon his lover with the coming way; maybe Giacomo would find peace knowing that the French had been punished. His mind had drifted off when he had turned towards the window again, only to be pulled back by the day‘s first ring of the church bells.

Friedrich had groaned quietly and had ran a hand over his face, he had not known just how he had managed to bring the endless hours of the night behind him. _At least he had been lucky enough with it being a summer‘s instead of a winter‘s night_ , he had thought, snorting humorlessly at his own musing. _Lucky enough, ha_. He had blinked heavily; if he had though himself to be tired the prior evening he had been absolutely exhausted by then. His whole body had seemed to have slumped, his legs had ached and if he would sit down, he would most likely find sleep the second his backside would touch the seat. The king of Prussia had cleared his throat and had fixed an imaginary crease out of his waistcoat before he had turned on the heels of his shoes, freezing when his eyes had met with Giacomo‘s. The younger man must had woken up in silence, and some time ago, without alarming Friedrich, who had been sure that he had listened to any changing in his lover‘s breathing with pointed ears. Friedrich had stood frozen to his spot, not blinking as he had looked right into Giacomo‘s eyes. They had been a lot more open and cleared than they had been hours ago and Giacomo had been really looking at Friedrich, not just into empty space; the brown in them much less clouded. “Oh Giacomo...” Friedrich had set into motion after he had breathed out his lover‘s name, his voice laced with surprise, and had slowly walked over to him, taking one careful step after another, almost as if he would have been approaching a wild animal that could jump away at any second. Despite the fact that Giacomo had not been trembling when he had moved closer to him, Friedrich‘s heart had been breaking all over again, for the sight he had been greeted with had not been any better. Giacomo had gone completely rigid, enough for Friedrich to come to the painful realization that he had expected to be beaten or otherwise violated, and yet the older had not stopped taking step after step before he had reached the side of his lover‘s sickbed, until he had been able to put his hand on the blanket beside Giacomo‘s arm. He had made sure that he had not been touching him by accident, “How are you feeling?” Silence. Giacomo had not answered, had only continued to stare in the direction of the window with a trembling chin and much to Friedrich‘s horror, there had, once more, been tears present in his eyes. “Sanssouci -” The blond had let out a sob and had abruptly turned his head away from Friedrich, thus exposing the bruised side of his neck, his formerly rigid body then trembling and Friedrich had stood there, utterly helpless. He had not known what he had done wrong, which one of his words it had been that had triggered Giacomo so badly. “No no no, do not cry. My love, please do not cry, please, I...”

The lump in his throat had hindered him at completing his sentence, a lump that had formed when Giacomo had sat up, a bit circuitously, and had looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. “You did not give up on me?” Sure, he would have liked to hear something else from his lover, but Friedrich had intrusively known that it would take a long time before said question would be asked for the last time. He never would have expected that Giacomo would put his arms around his middle and hide his face in the softness of his stomach, and so Friedrich had gasped silently as just those things had happened. He had burried the fingers of one hand in Giacomo‘s hair in disbelieve and had splayed the other between the younger man‘s shoulder blades, rubbing gentle circles on his trembling back. He would have liked to kiss him, at least on the temple, but he would have needed to force him away from him first, and Friedrich never would have done so. _To think that Giacomo, after all that had happened, had still reached out to him for comfort.._. Friedrich had clicked his tongue and had tightened his hold a bit; the day would be hard for both of them, indeed it would be, but for Friedrich, it did not matter. As long as he would be allowed to stay at Giacomo‘s side and as long as his Sanssouci would forgive him for what he had done, he would withstand it all. “Do not fret, my Sanssouci, I am here.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like [Melian12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melian12/pseuds/Melian12) and I have discussed it a few days ago: Friedrich Wilhelm's spirit must hunting me from wherever it's trapped because my life has been a mess lately, which is why this chapter's coming up so late. Sorry for that.
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

“Friedrich...” The king of Prussia‘s breath had hitched, barely audible, and he had squeezed his eyes shut as he had shifed the hold he had on his lover so that his arms had been tightly wrapped around him. He had very well known that the image of them would have been worthy of court rumors, with him, as the king, allowing his _paramour_ to cry into him so openly. God, how he had hated that word. Even if someone would have been there to witness it Friedrich would not have cared about it and he had known by fact that his Giacomo probably would not have done so either, for there must had been so many bigger things going through his mind. The younger man had been crying and sobbing so openly and in a way that had been desperate enough to make Friedrich tear up himself, how could he ever do so much as make up for his foolish mistake of ignoring the warnings of a possible revenge act? How could he ever expect Giacomo to forgive him when it had been _him_ that had practically send him into the arms of the duke of Württemberg? Friedrich had felt Giacomo shuddering in his embrace, probably from the force of his sobs, and he had wanted to draw the finger of one hand into the younger man‘s hair, the way that he had always done in, to console and calm him, but had stopped himself halfway through the movement. Karl Eugen had not only robbed his Giacomo, his gentle and always loving Giacomo of his pride, dignity and health and Friedrich of the privilege of getting to call his lover “his Liebling”, but also, and maybe most importantly, of the possibility of being able to touch the man he loved like no other in the way that he had always taken for granted. Getting to kiss him, caress him, hold him while they would be sleeping in bed together. Holding his hand, or just having Giacomo‘s arm tucking into his when they would take a stroll to the gardens. Being allowed to rest his hand on his thigh when they would eat together. Friedrich had not even dared to think about whether or not he would ever be allowed to run his hands over Giacomo‘s naked sides in admiration, like he had done so often when the younger had sat astrode on his lap. Karl Eugen had destroyed it all knowingly and because of something that _Friedrich_ , in the duke's eyes, had done wrong.

Friedrich had felt physically sick when he had began to wonder if Giacomo would continue to confuse his touches with those of the duke‘s, like he had done it when Friedrich had first pulled him into his arms. A truly sickening possibility it had been, but with all its horrors not the only think that he had been worried about while he had been holding onto his crying lover. Giacomo had already been utterly weakened by the fever he had been nursing and the general exhaustion, which had came from the time spend inprisoned and as the personal whipping man for the duke of Württemberg, and the way that he had been sobbing for a good long while, drawing in desperate and deep gulps of air every now and then, surely would do nothing to improve his overall poor health. He had never heard him cry out quite in this manner before and oh, how Friedrich would have been lying if he would have said that it had not affected him greatly. He had stilled the movement of his hand, which had ran gently and continuos circles on Giacomo‘s back, and had removed it with a carefully slow pace to be able to reach down and gently free his lover‘s frace from where the younger had burried in his middle, thus, maybe, being able to equally gently nudge Giacomo away. “Would you look at me, Sanssouci? For no more than just a moment, yes? Can you do that for me?”, Friedrich had whispered after he had swiftly bend down, thus speaking into his hair prior to hasting a kiss into it. He had failed to resist doing so but Giacomo had, to his great relief, not fallen into another panic attack. The younger had not reacted at all, really, and he also had not reacted in any other way as he had loosened his arms from around Friedrich‘s waist in what must had been slow motion, sniffling quietly as he had leaned his upper body back until he had been sitting instead of leaning against the other man. Oh, Giacomo had been a true image of what heartache looked like. Trembling with all his might and his entire body, fingers fidgeting with the thin blanket that had fallen into his lap as he had sat up, thus bearing his unclad but bandaged body and keeping his gaze firmly averted away from Friedrich‘s face, Friedrich had felt such a surge of protectiveness rising inside of him that it had very well threatened to tear him apart for he had wanted to do nothing more than to give his all, his life, even, just to assure that his Giacomo would be alright. He had known that he, too, had been harmed during the course of the weeks that had passed, peculiarly since he had spend the majority of the time fearing for the younger man‘s life and well-being. Friedrich would have liked to stay and lie down next to Giacomo, even if the bed had happened to have been a single one and much too small to fit the both of them comfortably, or merely wait until the doctor would make an appearance again, but it had been the duties of his crown that had hindered him from doing so. The early morning would soon shift into a late one, and his presence would then be required at another place of the palace.

“Giacomo,” Friedrich had tried again when his lover had not reacted to his first gentle request, his voice then having dropped even lower for even then he had been scared of possibly scaring the younger man. His heart had summersaulted when Giacomo had indeed lifted his head and had looked up, just barely and cautiously, even, but it had been enough. Giacomo had raised his head and Friedrich never would have insisted that he should meet his eyes directly, so he had been fine with Giacomo‘s eyes darting between his chest and a spot somewhere beside him. There had been tears making their way down the Italian‘s slightly reddened cheeks, the same tears that had wet through the expensive fabrics of Friedrich‘s waistcoast and blouse, not that Friedrich would have ever complained about it. Clothes could be changed, he had merely wished that he could have reached out and wipe them away from Giacomo‘s face, for seeing the man he loved crying so composurelessly had pained him greatly. “There we are,” he had whispered after Giacomo had lifted his chin, making sure that his words had been underlined with a humming tone in hope that it would hinder the younger from being scared of him. _Scared of him, of him out of all the people..._ Friedrich never would have believed that he would ever give his lover a reason to be scared of him after the events of the fatefull night that he had been poisened and had lashed out at Giacomo in his drug-clouded consciousness. _“Fr-iedrich, stop, ple-ase stop.” “I will stop once I am done with you.”_ His Giacomo had forgiven him. Giacomo had forgiven Friedrich for trying to strangle him, for beating him with his fist and finally for whiping him with his belt until the king‘s arm had tired. He had forgiven it all, but how on earth could Friedrich ever expect Giacomo to forgive him for his latest, horrible mistake? Friedrich‘s heart had been so heavy and devided between risking to reach out and touch Giacomo or staying away from him as far as he possibly could, with the latter being what the younger man would probably want him to do. Not that Friedrich could have blamed him - Giacomo‘s life had only began to be tinted with darkness after he and Friedrich had grown close, has it not? Friedrich had cleared his throat when he had realized that he had stayed quiet for too long, causing an awkward silence to stand in between them. “I... would like to stay with you, Giacomo, but there are duties that I need to fullfill before I can do so.” Giacomo‘s whispered “Oh”, which had been the only thing that had came as an answer, had been laced with the weight of disappointment and the blond had lowered his head again to look at his hands. Sure, Friedrich had known that they both had been grown men, with his lover, as opposed to himm, still in the prime of his life, but Giacomo had been so... _vulnerable_ , so painfully obvious in need of protection, almost like a child, as he had been sitting rather slumped on he bed, the bandage so prominently standing across his chest, that Friedrich very well could have broken out into tears himself. In that moment Giacomo had been no more than a shadow of the man that he had waved farewell in Potsdam to, and Friedrich had solely been to blame for it. “May I take your hand, Giacomo? Would it be alright for me to do so?”, he had asked after he had seated himself on the very edge of Giacomo‘s bed.

Even though he had heard the tale-telling sound of multiple set of feet hasting along the corridor, his men, who had most likely been in the process of setting everything up for the day, Friedrich had not gotten up. His royal presence had been required elsewhere, yes, but no affair of state could have veen of more importance than Giacomo had been in that moment. Giacomo had nodded once in answer to Friedrich‘s question and the shyness which had dominated his behaviour had been one which Friedrich had not seen in almost a year. He had not known when he had last needed to ask for permisson regarding something so trivial, but it would have felt wrong and intrusive if Friedrich would have just just taken Giacomo‘s hand as if it had been within his rights to do so. “You may,” Giacomo had eventually whispered, and Friedrich‘s heart had been truly beating rapidly against his rips when he had watched how the younger had lifted his hand off the mattress, holding it raised by no more than a couple of inches and clearly waiting for Friedrich to take it instead of reaching out for Friedrich‘s himself. _He had truly been cowed by the godforsaken duke_ , had flashed through the king of Prussia‘s mind, litting the flame of anger inside of him, which had dimmed down to ember during the hours of the night, all over again when he had slowly extended his arm, never taking his eyes off Giacomo as he had blindy taken the younger man‘s fragile hand into his. He had deliberatedly chosen not to look down, for he would have spotted the blue and green bruises around Giacomo‘s wrist if he would have done so and he had not wanted, at least for a short while, to focus on nothing but the injuries that had been conflicted onto his lover in such a ruthless way. “I do not want you to think that my duties are more important to me than you are, Sanssouci,” Friedrich had spoken once he had gained a secure and gently hold on the younger man‘s hand, which had been little more than dead weight. Giacomo, as opposed to Friedrich, had kept his own eyes firmly casted downwards, staring at his own hand lying in Friedrich‘s as if he had a hard time believing that it had been real and not a mere illusion, and he had moved his fingers around a bit just to feel them brush against those of the king. “Do you understand, my Sanssouci?”, Friedrich had tried to dig deeper without pushing his lover too much, he had needed to know that the meaning of his words had not been misunderstood. “I do.” Friedrich had not liked the way that Giacomo had answered to him, so immediately and cut off as if Friedrich had thrown a command at him, and it had done nothing to increase his fear of finding out what had really happened to his younger lover over the course of his incarceration. “Good.” He had squeezed Giacomo‘s hand gently, “I also do want you to know that I am doing the most to avenge what he had done to you. Do you understand?” Giacomo may not have responded by using his words, but Friedrich had knonw that what he would do had been within his lover‘s favor when Giacomo had squeezed his hand, too. Gingerly, but it had been a definite squeeze.

“I do promise that I will return to you as soon as I am done for the day, my love. Mark my words,” Friedrich had raised Giacomo‘s hand to his lips, though only doing so much as grazing against his lover‘s knuckles before he had laid it back down onto the mattress. He had only stood up after he had ran the tips of his fingers gently over the back of the younger man‘s hand, smiling at Giacomo. “I will see you later, my love. Be safe.” Giacomo had watched how Friedrich had slowly turned around and had walked across the room, and away from him, with wide eyes. He had not wanted him to leave and before he could have stopped himself his chin had began to tremble all over again. _Do not leave me, please do not leave me here!_ Giacomo had not called out, of course he had not, for Friedrich surely would have believed him to be even more pathetic than he had already been. He had merely sank back down onto the pillows, hiding his face in his hands. _“My, Liebling,” Karl Eugen said with a “tsk” in his voice, “it must be so hard on your heart to find out how little you actually matter to him.”_ “No,” Giacomo had whimpered, drawing in a shaky intake of breath as he had pressed the balls of his hands against his eyes had enough for it to hurt. _He could not... it would not be fair to Friedrich, who had done so much for him even if he did not deserve it..._ He had rolled onto his side with a labored gasp before he had swung his legs off the side of the bed and had laboriously pushed himself up until he had been sitting somewhat straight. _“I am sorry, Liebling,” Karl Eugen had said when he had came to pay him a visit, his hands had already worked on the fly of his trousers before the door had even fallen close, “the king of Prussia yet has to react. It has been a week, Liebling, and it is your life that is at risk. It does seem that he... simply does not care enough about you.”_ Karl Eugen‘s voice had been speaking in Giacomo‘s mind as if it had always belonged there, as if had replaced the voice that had usually been present there and maybe it had been the reason for his sudden inability to stand being in the room, which had served as his cell as well as his safe space, in a way, for over a month. He may have been to fast with believing himself to have improved greatly over night, while most of his fever had ceased, his vision still had gone black around its edges as he had slowly gotten onto his feet, and he had let out a strangled gasp when a new wave of pain had radiated from the wound on his chest, a wave strong enough to have made him sway on the spot that he had stood on. Giacomo had sat back down onto the edge of the bed, gingerly holding a hand to his bandaged chest. _How had it been possible for the healing process to be more painful than the actual infliction of it?_ He had only managed to stand on steady feet at the second try and he had wrapped the thin blanket around his waist, to hide his nudity, before he had crossed the room with a slight limp in his gate.

He had hesitated once one hand of his had came to rest on the knob of the door, though he had not known just why he had done so. The door, _that_  very door had been locked almost the entire time that Giacomo spend in the room, and it had only been opened when Karl Eugen had felt the need to come and... visit him. Oh, he had rattled at it countless of times in hope of being able to get out. It might had explained his sudden fear, but it had been a most useless one for he had watched Friedrich pass through it a few mere moments ago. Giacomo had drawn in a deep breath through his nose he had pushed the know down, slowly, and his heart most definitely should not have summersaulted the way it had done when the door had opened. He had swallowed hard as he had opened the door, just as slowly as he had turned the knob and with a hand against the simple wood, pushing it open inch by inch until he had been able to put his head in between the door and its frame to peek into the corridor. There had been no one to be seen, no guards of either Prussia or Württemberg, though Giacomo had been sure that he had heard the hints of hushed voices whispering somewhere along the corridor. The wave of feeling that had flooded him had been strangely indefinable, really, since the last time that he had been allowed to step out into it had been when Karl Eugen had came to collect and freshen him up for the dinner event which, in the end, had turned out to have been the most embarrassing experience of Giacomo‘s life. He had lingered like that for a good few long moments, with merely his had peeking into the corridor and his blood rushing in his ears due to his nervousness, and just as he had believed himself to have gathered the mental strength to force his legs into carrying his body forwards, the voiced, which he, until than, had perceived as no more than incomprehensible whispers, had grown steadily louder and had, seemingly all out of the sudden, been accompanied by footsteps that had came rushing into his direction, and Giacomo - Giacomo had panicked. He had pulled his head back, hard enough to cause himself whiplash and for his vision to blurry and darken, before he had thrown the door shit loud enough for the metal to slam against each other in a deafening manner. He had planted both of his hands against the wooden door, stemming all of his weight against it, not caring that it had caused the blanket, which he had been holding around his waist, to pile around his feet. _He is coming for you, he is coming for you, he is coming for you_ , his mind had yelled at him, and a shiver had went through Giacomo when he had been downright able to hear the duke of Württemberg‘s aroused voice speak into the air next to his ear. It had also been Giacomo‘s full-on panicked mind that had made him act in the manner that he had done since the real him had, deep down, remembered the words that Friedrich had whispered to him in a continuous mantra, “ _I am here, my love, he cannot hurt you anymore”_ , and yet his eyes had burned from the presence of unshed tears and yet his heart had raced itself to a point close to exhaustion. His arms had trembled from the sheer force that he had used to stem his hands against the door, a tremble which soon had engulfed his entire body as he had tried to make out the footsteps through the sound of his blood rushing in his ears.

The people that the voices had belonged to, it had been two, Giacomo had realized after a while, must had came to a halt somewhat in front of the door connecting the corridor to his room. He had almost let out a sob of relief, just barely managing to prevent it from coming out by pressing his hand to his mouth, when he had recognized the voices as those belonging to women, most likely chambermaids. No Karl Eugen, no Maximilien, _“I am here, my love, he cannot hurt you anymore”_ , and even though some of his initial shock had been drained from him Giacomo had continued to stand there, hands pressed against the door, and listen to the women converse. “Now, I really cannot say that I am anywhere near surprised,” one of the women had spoken with her voice no louder than a hushed whisper, “nor that I am feeling sorry for him. That man had it coming. I would have decided like His Majesty had done it, too, if I would have been put into such a position.” “I am not appealing against the decision of His Majesty, Margarete,” the second hushed voice had answered, having sounded somewhat offended by the sugestion. “It is just... I do not know how I should put it, I just... think that it is happening too soon, you know? The king has not even given him a trial.” Giacomo‘s brows had pulled together, thus making a crease appear on his forehead. _What was happening too soon? And by king she had surely meant Friedrich, had she not? And the trial... it surely was not the one for -_ “Now, I do think that we both know that a trial would not have changed the outcome.” “Yes, that would be the truth. Oh no I remember what I had wanted to tell you the entire time; Elisabeth has told me that they have already cut his hair and are finishing the last few preparations for his execution. If you will not take too long while washing the Sire we might the able to watch it.” The two women had snickered lowly before one had spoken, “I sadly will not be able to watch it, regardless of how much time it will take.” “Why would that be?” “His Majesty has requested for me to stay with the Sire until His Majesty will be finished with his duties. His Majesty is fearing that it would not be of help for the Sire to be alone for so long.” Giacomo had then also recognized one of the women as the chambermaid, which had brough him something to drink while he had been bound to the chair at the very beginning of his incarceration. The same chambermaid which had asked him to write the one-liner for Friedrich. “Has he really done so?” “Indeed, yes. I consider it as a great honor.” “As you should. I will be off then.” With that the women had parted ways, and Giacomo had been granted barely enogh time to collect the blanket from where it had fallen onto the floor and hold it over his privat parts before the chambermaid had rapped at the door twice in quick succession. “May I come in, Monsieur?” He had cleared his throat, “Yes, yes,” Giacomo had brought out with a somewhat squeaky voice, and he had stood rather helplessly and not moving an inch, with not very stable knees, as he had watched the door being opened and a familiar face appearing.

The chambermaid had gifted him with a smile when she had closed the door behind her, “I did not know whether you had fallen back asleep our not, Monsieur, though His Majesty had stated that you have risen during the early hours of the morning,” she had spoken, a chirping tone tone having laced her voice. The chambermaid had made sure that the door had been properly closed before she had walked across the room to put the porcelain bowl, which had been filled with slightly steaming water and a nice-smelling ingredient, onto the bed. “His Majesty had suggested for me to was you before you are seen by the doctor, Monsieur.” It had been very clear to Giacomo that she had expected to get an answer from him, but he had simply been in too much of a state of shock to retort anything, not the simplest of words and not even a simple nod. He had simply starred at her, not caring if it had possibly made her feel uncomfortable, and the chambermaid had looked at him, too, with a tilted head and a kind smile. She thankfully had renounced to make a comment about him being stark naked, except for the blanket that he had still been holding to cover himself makeshiftingly, but even though him appearing in front of another, as a nobleman, had been embarassing to his status and name, there had been no mockery behind her gaze, only pity and something that Giacomo had not been able to read. He had stayed quiet as the chambermaid had slowly reached for the blanket to pull in away before she had asked him to sit on the edge of the bed, as “The strain of standing up for so long surely must not be good for you, Monsieur.” Giacomo had felt a shiver running through his body as the protecting fabric had been removed. There had been a time in his life, before he had met and loved Friedrich, in which he had not been able to even _think_ about being naked in front of a woman without causing himself to be errect, but right then he had not needed to look down to see that there had been absolutely no stirring in his lower body whatsoever. The chambermaid had washed his face fist, holding it with a gentle thumb underneath Giacomo‘s chin as she had moved the cloth over his forehead, temple and cheek. Giacomo‘s eyes had fluttered close and he had allowed himself to give a silent sigh, it had been a long while since he had felt such a gentle woman‘s touch and he had appreciated it greatly. The chambermaid had made sure that she would not be touching the thick bandage across Giacomo‘s chest as she had washed his neck and collar bones. “Whose execution is it that you have mentioned earlier?”, Giacomo had asked in a whispering tone as the chambermaid had soaked and wrung the cloth in the bowl. She had stilled in her movement and had looked at Giacomo, almost as if she had been surprised to hear him speak at all, given how he had stayed quiet for the majority of the time. “I apologize,” she had answered after a short pause of consideration, clicking her tongue and shaking her head before she had continued, “His Majesty ordered that you shall not be told of it.” “What?” The chambermaid had applied the cloth again, this time to one of his arms, and she had gently taken his wrist to lift it in order to be able to wash it.

“Why would Friedri-,” Giacomo had quickly cleared his throat before he had corrected himself. “Why would _His Majesty_ order something like that?” He had swallowed hard and had tried not to wince when the chambermaid had lifted his arm even higher, thus causing a strain on the healing wound of his chest. “Oh God,” the maid had gasped and had let go of Giacomo‘s arm as if it had burned her, “I am so sorry Monsieur, I did not mean to cause you any pain. I apologize.” Giacomo had merely nodded once, thus signaling that he had accepted her apology. A few more moments of silence had passed in which the chambermaid had continued to clean him before Giacomo had opened his mouth to speak again. “You would only get in trouble for telling be if... someone would happen to tell His Majesty, would you not?” The chambermaid had sighed before she had stood from where she had been squatting down to wash his legs, putting the cloth back into the bowl. She had wiped her hands on her apron, and had sighed again, this time almost resignedly. “We have been talking about Monsieur Beaumont. His Majesty has filed an order for him to be executed this morning.” Giacomo had not known why, but hearing the chambermaid speak it out had caused his lungs to have seemingly stopped their service. He had not been able to breathe, had desperately tried to draw in a lungfull of breath but had only managed to wheeze. “I need to... I need to get...”, Giacomo had pushed the chambermaid aside with one arm before he had stood up and looked around. It had been what he had wanted to do, though, because his knees had given out before he had even reached his full height. He had not even registered it, for he had been so focused on trying to _just breathe_ and get the panic, that had hit him with full force once more and seemingly out of thin air, once more. “Monsieur!” The chambermaid had pushed the bowl off the bed by accident, causing it to shatter on the floor, when she had whirled around to try and catch Giacomo before he, too, would fall. “Monsieur!” He had not known what had been happening to him and neither had he heard how the woman had tried to get his attention by adressing him over and over again. His lungs had burned from the dire need for air, and yet Giacomo had not been able to breathe properly, the huffs of air that he had managed to draw in and release had been no more than desperate attempts. “Monsieur, what has happened!” The chambermaid could not have stopped her voice from squeaking even if she would have tried to as she had held onto the Monsieur‘s upper arm with all the power that she had possessed to prevent him from collapsing completely. His behaviour had worried her greatly, and the way that he had been wheezing in his kneeling position had made her fear for the worst. “Someone help! Someone!”

“Good morning, Sire.” Friedrich had nodded his head into the direction of his valet, who been waiting for him in the entrance hall of the duke of Württemberg‘s newly inaugurated palace. “It is a good morning indeed, Wilhelm.” He had clenched his jaw as he had wordlessly motioned for them to walk and Wilhelm would have been surprised by how taciturn his king had been if it would have been another occasion, but in that moment, he had almost felt the tension and anticipation radiate off him. Not that Wilhelm could have blamed him, considering what the Frenchman had caused Monsieur Casanova to go through... He had spared to ask if his king had a pleasant night, for he had found his bed empty when he had wanted to inquire after his well-being, and if he had needed anything, and Wilhelm had only needed to ask a guard to find out that His Majesty had not left the Monsieur‘s chamber yet. “Has the condition of the Monsieur improved, Sire?”, the valet had asked as he and the king of Prussia had walked across the entrance hall with fast and wide strodes; he had tried not to stare at the limp, which the monarch had been showing once more, too much, and a quick smile had shown around the corner‘s of the king‘s mouth at the mention of his lover. “Oh yes, it has and it does seem that he is improving rather fast, physically at least.” Friedrich could not stop the smile that had flit across his face, oh how good it had felt to no longer be parted from his Giacomo. He surely would not, nor could, forget the horrors that the thirty-six days of uncertainty had brought with them, but Friedrich had been certain that their future was bright if Giacomo would continue as rapidly as he had. Once his body would have healed Friedrich would give his all to heal his mind as well, with no regards to how much it could possibly hurt himself. “Those are good news, Sire.” “Indeed they are, yes,” Friedrich had answered with a nod, and he had squared his shoulders and prodjuced his chin as soon, thus changing his entire appearance, the second that he and the valet had reached the bottom of outside staircase and had approached the assemblance of people that had came together in the very middle of the courtyard. Just like Friedrich had ordered; and he had known that there could not have been a statement more powerfull than him, as the king of Prussia, ending the life of the duke of Württemberg‘s lover right in front of Karl Eugen‘s eyes. “Your Majesty,” the group had spoken in unison, and the guards as well as the priest and the masked executioner had bowed their heads as soon as Friedrich had came to a stand in front of them, the valet most trustworthily at his side. Friedrich‘s eyes had switched over to the high wooden block with the tale-telling notches, and he would have been lying if he would have said that his body had not buzzed from the foresight that it would not take long until he would see the frenchman‘s neck propped over it. “Is the duke awake yet?” “Yes, Sire,” Wilhelm had nodded, eyes narrowed as he had looked at the guards. “Good. Tell them to retrieve him.” The valet had needed to do only so much as cock his head before two of the handfull of guards had hurried off. “And Beaumont?” “They have cut his hair and dressed him in appropriate attire, Sire. Monsieur Beaumont has turned down the offer to talk to the priest.” Friedrich had allowed himself to smirk, “Then I do not see why he would not be ready to walk his last walk.”

The king‘s words had allerted another pair of guards, who had then taken it onto themselves to step forward and suggest that they would retrieve the French from his cell, a suggestion to which Friedrich had answered with a sharp and decisive nod. He had watched how the second pair of guards, too, had strode off, though with another direction, and his fingers had clenched and unclenched in a somewhat regular rhythm as they had waited for the guards to return with silence heavily draped over the scene. It had been almost been comically, really, that the king of Prussia, his first valet, a priest, an executioner and a handfull of Prussian guards had been waiting for the nobleman, that would be beheaded, and for the duke of Württemberg, who the king had chosen to act as involuntary eyewitness, while the day‘s first warm beams of sunlight had flooded the courtyard and birds had chirped happily out and about; and for Friedrich, it had all been indications of a perfectly good summer‘s day. Which it would be, he had thought as he had inspected the metal tip of his cane, and he had cleared his throat before he had turned his gaze towards the cloudless sky. _So very different from the morning of the sixth of November. No!_ Friedrich‘s mouth had pulled into a thin line and he had shaken his head to try and get that thought, that _memory_ out of his mind right away. It had no right to have came up just then... Katte‘s unjust death, his father's sadistic act of revenge had stood in absolutely no corelation to the fate that Maximilien Beaumont would be meeting. Absolutely none; Friedrich had thus been most confused that his mind had even came up with it in that exact moment as he had been waiting in the courtyard. Almost thirty-five years had passed, of which thirty-three had been filled with nothing but pain and sheer grief for what he had lost on that fatefull Friday in November, and while he had still missed his Katte, who had been his first true friend and his first true love, the long-gone man had began to play more of a background role in Friedrich‘s life instead of the main part - ever since he had met Giacomo. Ever since Giacomo had came into his life, ever since Friedrich had first taken the younger man into his chamber at the first occasion that they had met the memories of Katte, and of what he had lost with him, had became less and less painfull. Because he had someone that he could love, and because that someone loved him back and it had been that love which had made it so easy for Friedrich to decide that he would not spare the frenchman‘s life. From the moment on that Karl Eugen had put a finger onto Giacomo, from the very moment on that the mere idea of doing what the duke and the French had done, they had lost any chance that Friedrich would have given them. It had been an utter shame, really, that there would be only one man whose life would be ended on that beautiful morning, but Friedrich had known that it would not do him any good to long for revenge that he could not get, so he instead had focused on the one that he could, and would, get.

The sound of feet soundly moving over the gravel stones of the courtyard had pulled Friedrich away from his thoughts and back into the there and then; and when he had lowered his head again and had turned around, the first thing he had spotted had been Karl Eugen‘s face. The duke of Württemberg‘s face had been an almost perfectly blank mask as he had been led by the couple of guards. One had been holding the duke‘s arms behind his back in quite the rough manner while the other had held a strong hold on the back of the disheveled looking man; Friedrich had allowed his face to show a smirk when he had taken in the dark circles around the duke‘s eyes, the way that his clothes had been wrinkled and how tousled his unbound hair had been, for it had been simply too good of a sight. Gratification had already began to set in, bringing a buzzing to Friedrich‘s veins. _I am doing it for you, my love. You will have your revenge._ “I assume that you did not have a very restful night, _Your Grace_?” It had been an equally satisfying sight to see how Karl Eugen‘s expressionless face had crumpled and the corner‘s of his mouth had twitched, and Friedrich had been sure that he had seen him swallow hard, probably to keep himself from letting a disrespectful retort slip past his lips. _Good_. The duke of Württemberg had seemingly realized that he would not stand a chance if he would take a defensive stand. “It is what I thought,” Friedrich had then sneered, though his smirk had never faded, especially not since Karl Eugen had spotted the high wooden block. If it would have been another occasion, he surely would have felt with the duke for he, too, knew how it felt to not be able to do anything to stop one‘s lover‘s execution, but Friedrich had been comfortable with stating to himself that he had felt no compassion at all. The duke and the French had both been guily men, and another piece of evidence that had shook the king of Prussia to his core had been the fact that they had enough time to rethink and possibly dismiss the plan that they had came up with in such a malicious manner, and that the duke had still ordered for Giacomo to be captured. Karl Eugen had time to think, and he yet had tortured, raped and manipulated Giacomo brutally; and Friedrich would make him pay for it in the only way that he could. It had not taken long until the other pair of guards had appeared, this time leading the frenchman. Beaumont had been dressed in nothing but a simple white piece of attire which had resembled the nightdress that Giacomo had been clearly forced to wear; gone had been his long, ginger-haired curls but the frenchman had not lost his presumptuous expression and the annoying, seemingly always there smirk. Friedrich had not been able to wait until he would see it being wiped out for the last final time. One of the guards that had held a grip on the frenchman had let go to allow his comrade to force Beaumont onto his knees after they had walked him up towards the wooden block.

As soon as the French‘s knees had connected with the ground the priest had stepped forward, opening the bible he had brought with him and holding out the cross, starting to mutter a lowly-spoken prayer in Latin. Friedrich, of course, had known the necessary, and unnecessary steps that would take place before an execution would take place. “Requiem æternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei,” the priest had spoken in a drawled-out way and Friedrich had just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He had never been a religious person, _ha, if his father would know_ , and thus did not believe in either heaven or hell but if there had been something alike, he had been sure that the French would join his father for a meeting in the Tabakskollegium of hell. If it would have been within the king of Prussia‘s rights to take the last prayer away from the French, he would have done so without any hesitation, but as it had seemed, Beaumont had not cared much for it anyway. While the priest had continued to mutter the memorized prayer the French had turned his head to be able to look at Karl Eugen, who had been blinking suspiciously hard and fast, and smile at him. Friedrich could not believe it. Beaumont had, in what were his final moments, renounced an apology, a plea for his life, or even a simply cry just to look and smile at the duke. He had been truly smiling and there had been not an ounce of fear or sadness in his eyes, neither while the priest had still spoken nor when the Bible had been closed and he had been blessed. “I do not regret it,” Beaumont had then said out the sudden, shifting his gaze towards Friedrich. There had been a strange glintering in his eyes, but he had not said anything further directed to the king before he had turned his attention back to Karl Eugen. “Maximilien, I -” “Quiet,” the guard that had planted his gloved hand over the duke‘s mouth had snapped, and if Friedrich would have turned his head to look at him, he would have seen how his eyes had been opened wide and how there had been a definite shine in them. It had only been Wilhelm who had noticed it, and he had, dutifully, leaned closer to his king to whisper that exact information to him. Friedrich then had turned, but only managing to look at the duke for a short moment. He hated himself that he had felt a mere twinge of compassion, he could not be compassionate with him for it would have been a great betrayal to his Giacomo. _They are both guilty._ “I will die with nothing but love for you in my heart as long as you promise that you will not forget me.” “ _There is nothing to forgive, I die for you with joy in my heart!”_ The king of Prussia had momentarily needed to close his eyes in order to let none of his feeling slip past his façade, and he had reopened them just as Beaumont had leaned over and positioned his neck in the intendation of the wooden block. He had given the sign to the executioner with a wave of his hand, and the sound of the sword being pulled out of its scabbard had been accompanied by that of the duke struggling and trying to speak, his voice being muffled by the hand that yet had to free his face again.

It had been over with rather fast. The executioner had raised the sword, and had stopped, with the weapon in the air, before he had brough it down with one fast, hard and skilled hit. Friedrich had failed to stop himself from flinching, as the sound of the steel blade cutting through flesh and bone had still made him sick to the stomach. He would probably never be able to get used to it, and a part of him had not wanted to do so for it would have been a trait too close to the one that his father had possessed. There had been a strange silence dominating the courtyard after the frenchman‘s head had hit the gravel ground with a dull sound. The birds had still been chirping, and the sun had still projected its warm light down onto them. It had still been a beautiful summer‘s morning. Friedrich had tried not to breathe through his nose, for the iron smell of blood did nothing to relieve his nausea, but when he had breathed through his nose, the same smell had seemed to lay itself onto his tongue. The king of Prussia had closed his eyes, had breathed in deeply and had kept the lungfull of air in, exhaling it slowly as he had turned towards his valet. “Make sure that his body will be taken away,” he had spoken lowly, sounding more choked-up than he had wanted himself to. “Yes, Sire, I will do so.” He then had gave a signal to the guards, which had instantly let go of Karl Eugen. The duke of Württemberg had barely been able to keep himself on his feet, and he had actually stumbled to one side when he had suddenly been letting go of; his face had been tinted an unnatural shade of paleness and he had only done so much as gasp when the guards, the priest and the executioner had retreated. “This is not over yet,” Friedrich had pressed through his teeth as he had reached Karl Eugen‘s side, and the duke had not answered before Friedrich had continued to walk back towards the palace. There had been someone of much higher importance waiting for his return, and if Friedrich‘s mind would have went into that area, he would have admitted it to himself that he had required his lover‘s presence. One thing that had not changed in the course of the past year, that had survived all the ups and downs of their relationship had been the fact that Giacomo, by just being his utterly adorable and lovable self, had been the greatest balm for Friedrich‘s scarred soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So _that_ turned out to be a real beast :-D I'm glad that I managed to finish it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fear that any apology would be inflationary, so I'm just gonna go and say that I'll try to update this once a week. 
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

The king of Prussia had been in a good mood, considering the circumstances, when he had taken the fastest possible way en route back to Giacomo‘s room. _Giacomo‘s room, ha as if_. He had shaken his head as it had crossed his mind, oh it would be a cold day in hell before he would ever see or describe it as his Giacomo‘s room. It had been the Italian‘s former prison cell and his current sickroom, yes, but given the brutalities that had happened in its four walls it had been no more than that. Friedrich and Giacomo, they had been very far from home, so far away from any rooms that they would have been able to call their and from the comfort that they would have found there. He had almost stopped in his tracks when another thought had suddenly struck him - what if Giacomo would, despite it all, still want to continue his journey southwards, if he still wanted to travel back to his hometown of Venice? As much as he had liked to, he never would be able to follow him there, too, since he would be gone from Potsdam for far too long and it had not been possible for him to trust his godforsaken wife enough to hold the reins for longer than she had already been granted to do it without putting his country into a very difficult political position. Women, and especially not a woman like her could not be trusted with it. _“I am not going home,” Giacomo whispered as if it was a realization he just had, repeating it once, looking down before meeting Friedrich‘s eyes again. “You are my home, Friedrich. I am not going home.”_ Friedrich‘s heart had skipped a beat in the very same way that it had when Giacomo had whispered those words to him, “ _I am not going home.”_ Giacomo‘s mother, God bless her soul, had, without doubt, already been burried and the fact that the duke of Württemberg had possessed the audacity to deny Giacomo the opportunity, the right to bid his mother an adequate goodbye... He had forced himself to stop thinking into that direction, for it would not have been helpful with dimming the flame of hate which had been burning all so brightly inside of him. When he had been taking the last flight of stairs up into the highest floor of the palace, one hand searching for a secure aid of the railing and thus causing him to move much slower and with less grace, than he usually would have, the king of Prussia had, for the first time since he had left Giacomo‘s side earlier that morning, realized just how tired and exhausted he had been.

Friedrich‘s eyes had burned every time that he had blinked and the suddenly overwhelming heaviness of his eyelids had been accompanied by the harbinger of a nagging, nerve-consuming headache. The prospect that he would still need to bring the majority of the day behind him had also done nothing to help him in his deadlock situation. He had sighed, he had longed for and would have appreciated a pillow and a soft mattress underneath him greatly; but other than his burning need to see his Giacomo, the need to be there for him and try to guide him through these hard and panful times, it had also been the forecast that they would hopefully soon be able to return to Potsdam and continue their life together which had driven Friedrich. Oh, how much he would have liked to lie down, to close his eyes and to just think himself back to the happier times, to burry himself in his heart-warming memories; maybe to one of those morning which Giacomo and him had spend lingering in bed and exchanging soft, caressing touches and low whispers of love but the king of Prussia had forbade himself to do that, too. It would have been far too painful and it most surely would have torn him apart even further than he had already been, for the Giacomo, this pale, sick and utterly frightened individual that he had found here, locked away in a room so far away from home, had been no less than the exact opposite of the Giacomo that Friedrich had kissed farewell and had given his handkerchief as a promise to. If he would have thought about it for longer, and if he would have question whether or not he would ever be able to see his Giacomo so happy and healthy again, it surely would have broken his heart once and for all. Friedrich had tried to not let his labored breathing be too noticable, thus stopping for a short few moments to regulate his breathing once he had reached the top of the stairs. He had leaned heavily onto his cane, clenching and unclenching his free hand; he had hated having to admit that he, too, had not been at the peak of his health. Maybe, he had thought, they simply had not been put onto this earth, had not been destined to have an easy, carefree and happy life together for the things that had happened to them in the course of the year in which they had known and loved each other would have been enough to fill the biography of more than just another man. Yet they had, at least so far, managed to go through it regardless of it all. _His Giacomo_ , Friedrich had thought with fondness in his heart and a smile on his heart, straightening his posture and his waistcoat before he had set into motion again. The love he had harbored for the younger man truly had been unreached by any other, and the smille had not left his face once he had stood in front of the somewhat familiar door and had raised his hand to knock. “Giacomo, may I enter?” The smile had been wiped off, having faltered within a second, when the answer of “You may enter” had been spoken by a voice that had most definitely not belonged to his lover.

He had tried to keep the beating of his heart at a somewhat steady level as he had pushed the handle of the door down almost excruciatingly slowly, barely peaking inside as if he had been scared of what he could possibly find being present in the room. Friedrich‘s brows had pulled together when his eyes, when they had fallen onto the spot where he had been sure that the bed had stood, had been met with nothing but a look at the floor, and he had not been able to search around the room for it before a person had stepped into his field of vision. “I was not told that Your Majesty would be coming.” It had been the doctor, the duke‘s privat physician, that Friedrich had ordered to be brought from Stuttgart and who had been fast to walk towards the king of Prussia. Friedrich had raised his gaze away from the empty spot where the bed once had stood and had only then noticed that the room had been filled with a unpleasantly smelling smoke. He had recognized it immediately, and said realization had send a chill to the very core of him. Friedrich had not really perceived how he had stepped into the room and had closed the door behind him; he had only came back to his senses when he had stood right in front of the doctor, who had been looking at him over the rim of his glasses. “What happened while I was gone?” The physician had shifted his gaze away from Friedrich for merely the split of a second, but it had been enough to tell the king. “The Sire is suffering from a relapse, Your Majesty,” the doctor had answered, and his words had caused Friedrich‘s breath to hitch in his throat. “What?”, he had breathed before he could have considered how inappropriate it may have been, considering his crown, and if his face had been completely readable in that moment, Friedrich had not cared enough to change it. What he had heard had simply been utterly unexpected to him, and he had swallowed hard down his suddenly dry throat. He just really had not expected to return and be met with news of that kind; and he had swallowed once more as he had shifted his eyes away from the doctor and towards a spot behind him. The bed had been moved closer towards the window, which had been opened to allow the smoke-filled air in the room to be mixed with the warm summer‘s breeze. Friedrich had also made out that Giacomo had been propped ip against a stack of pillow, and the fact that Giacomo‘s head had been lolled over to one side had indicated that he had been asleep. “A relapse you say?” The doctor had nodded, “Yes, Your Majesty,” and when he had spoken, there had been somewhat of a sober tone underlining his voice. “When I came here to see the Sire he had fallen into a panicked fit from which he had calmed only after an hour of various attempts to calm him down.” The gearwheels in Friedrich‘s mind had been running fast - _a panicked fit? What could have caused his Giacomo to fall into a panic attack?_ He had resisted the urge to walk over to his lover, for he had still needed to get answers, but the doctor had spoken again before Friedrich could have done so. “I do not know what triggered it, Your Majesty, but the Sire lost himself in it far enough to cause him to faint from the exhaustion,” the physician had cleared his throat and had pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. “And it seems that I had declared the fever gone too soon, Your Majesty, for it has risen again.”

“A relapse?”, Friedrich had merely repeated using a flat tone, trying to figure out what it could possibly mean for him, but most importantly, for Giacomo. The physician had began to look more and more defeated, and he had bowed his head deeper as he had answered to Friedrich‘s disbelieving repetition, “Yes, Your Majesty. A relapse in itself is not necessarily uncommon, but...”, he had trailed off into silence as if he had been at a loss for words, and the king of Prussia had decided to not bore deeper, for he would not have been able to get a clear sound out of his tightened-up throat anyway. The picture which had stood in his mind mere minutes ago, of a peaceful early morning in bed with his Giacomo, had been as unreachable for him in that moment as it only could have been. Ten seconds or ten minutes could have passed, Friedrich had not known, but he had eventually cleared his throat and had spoken, with a raspy voice, “It was you who told me that he would live.” Not even a deaf man could have missed the accusation that had laced the king of Prussia‘s voice so heavily, and it had been enough to cause the doctor to reel back, for his head had snapped up and a crack in the façade of his behaviour allowing presumptuousness and unprofessionalism to slip past it. “I still very much do stand behind my words, Your Majesty,” the physician had retorted, with his voice having a certain cut but still with a respectable tone and considering how on-edge Friedrich had been, the other had done so wisely. “I apologize for my insolence, Your Majesty. What I wanted to say is that it would be highly unexpected if the Sire should... pass on.” The corners of Friedrich‘s mouth had twitched downwards. _Unexpected has happened to us more than one time_ , he had thought. “The only fear that I harbor is the one that the time, which the Sire will require to heal and recover, may expand beyond the period that Your Majesty has in mind.” “I will not wait until he has fully healed,” Friedrich had answered, his tone commanding and leaving no room for any possible arguement. “He will not recover if he is forced to stay here, of that I am sure.” Friedrich had meant it, he had truly believed that his Giacomo cold go onto a much better road of recovery if he would be back in Potsdam. Even Venice, if the younger should desire it; or everywhere else, really, as long as it would not be Stuttgart, not Solitude palace and nowhere near the duke of Württemberg which had been to blame for it all. Friedrich himself had lived through his fair share of traumatic events that had been tied to a special location, and thus the drive to get Giacomo out of there had been exceptionally strong. The smell that had hung so heavily in the air that had filled the room had began to make him feel sick to his stomach, not due to the combination of herbs but because it had reminded him of sickness and dying; he had remembered how his father‘s rooms had reeked just like that during the last months of his father‘s life, when Friedrich Wilhelm‘s body had been taken over by his various diseases and sicknesses.

The doctor had seemingly noticed the king‘s growing nausea, as he had spoken once more and without. “The herbs will help the Sire to get his strength back, for they will enable him to sleep deep and peacefully, Your Majesty.” Friedrich had cocked an eyebrow and he almost would have voiced out his doubt about the healing abilities of a room filled with smoke, but he had said no more than “I do know that”. His hopes had been too great that it, maybe, would work in the way that the physician had said that it would, even if he had seen how they had failed to relief his father of his pains. Oh, Friedrich Wilhelm had deserved to have a painful and torturing end, but his Giacomo, out of all the people, had deserved to be freed from his pains the most, even, or especially, since Friedrich would not let this be his end. The hope that the herbs would work had been the only, and almost last straw of hope that the king of Prussia could have reached out for and hold on to. He had not wanted to imagine just what it could mean if that hope would be crushed, too. “You cannot tell me when he will be in good enough of a condition to travel, can you,” Friedrich had asked, looking at the doctor as a man instead of a king, though the other had only been able to withstand his gaze for a short moment before he had turned halfway to look at his patient, who had alarmed the doctor by coughing slightly in his sleep, and Friedrich‘s eyes had followed, too. “I apologize, Your Majesty, but I cannot say so without having to lie. The only thing that we can do right now, Your Majesty, is to wait and see how the Sire progresses during today and the coming night. I shall be able to tell Your Majesty more by then.” Friedrich had nodded before he had gestured into the direction of Giacomo‘s bed, “Would it be alright for me to stay, or would it cause too great of a disturbance to him?” “I would advise Your Majesty to stay, even,” the doctor had answered, folding his hands in front of him, and he had bowed his head as he had taken a step backwards, this signaling that the way, so to speak, had been clear for the king to walk towards his lover‘s side. “I will be outside if Your Majesty, or the Sire, should require my presence.” “Good. Thank you for your service.” “It is a great honor, Your Majesty.” The physician had bowed once more before he had turned on his heels and strode out of the room, and Friedrich had, after the door had fallen close with a soft click, had shortly wondered about whether or not the physician had been trustworthy and not out to possibly weaken and harm Giacomo further, due to his loyalty to the dukedom of Württemberg. He had discarded that possibiliy rather fastm though, as he had taken a seat in the simple chair, which had been put next to the bed that his Giacomo had been sleeping in. Friedrich had pulled an unintended grimace - sure, the single-winged window had long been opened, allowing the pleasant summer‘s breeze to flow in, but the stench of the herbs had still edged him on in a wrong way. The king of Prussia had groaned as quietly as he could have done it after he had lowered himself into the chair and had stretched his hurting leg out, all while trying to stay as quiet as he could have, in general, in order for him to not wake the sleeping man by accident.

Friedrich had to smile, although he really had not felt like it. The sight of Giacomo, fast asleep, with his head lolled towards him had been a too endearing sight for him not to smile at it. It had been too long since he had been able to drink it in, and oh, the amount of love that he had felt for him in that moment had been even more overwhelming and undefinable than usually. Friedrich had not taken his eyes away from Giacomo‘s face, from those fluttering eyelashes and parted lips, as he had blindly reached underneath the thin blanket, which had been covering his sleeping lover up to his chest to cradle Giacomo‘s hand into his. The younger man‘s hand had been a warm and heavy weight which had rested there in his palm and Friedrich had only done so much ghost the pad of his thumb over the back of his lover‘s hand. The summer‘s breeze, which had came flowing into the room in a soothing stream, had blown through Giacomo‘s hair, had pushed it back from his forehead and Friedrich had felt the inner longing to reach out and thrace the skin over Giacomo‘s cheekbones with the tip of his fingers, like he had done it so many times before, and to lay his palm against the side of his lover‘s face for his palm to melt against it like a layer of bee‘s wax. He had not done so, however, since he had feared that his touch would have been enough to wake Giacomo up. The sleep would give him his stength back, and the sooner his Sanssouci would gain his strength back the sooner they would be able to leave and to return home. _Home_. Another smile had ghosted over Friedrich‘s face, though that time, it had been a much sadder one. _Home._ It had been so, so far away, almost an entire lifetime had seemed to stand in between the present and the recent past. This, all of this had not been supposed to happen and it would not have happened if it had not been for Friedrich‘s misjudgment. He had pinched the bridge of his nose with the thumb and index finger of his free hand, and he had leaned a bit forward as he had tried to prevent any rears from rising into his eyes by listening to Giacomo‘s regularly coming breathing. “I am sorry, Giacomo. I am so sorry.” Friedrich must had said his apologies countless of times during the course of the last two days, so often that it had began to lose much of its value, and yet he had not seemed to have been able to stop himself from repeating it over and over again when it truly had been the only think that had constantly stood in the mind of the king of Prussia. He had been sorry, more so than he ever could have put into words and the fact that he had been utterly clueless of what he could do to make Giacomo‘s situation at least somewhat more bearable for him had tortured Friedrich. But he would find one, of that he had, deep down, been sure and he had promised it to Giacomo with a slight squeeze of his hand. He had already avenged the younger, partly at least, by executing the French, by taking the life of the man that had initiated the entire plan and had been as much resonsible for ruin Giacomo‘s life as Karl Eugen had been. _Ruined his life_ , Friedrich could have sneered at that thought alone. He would give his best and, if it would be required, his all, just to make sure that _this_ would not ruin Giacomo‘s life once and for all.

Friedrich, afterwards, would not know how or when it had happened, but he had eventually fallen asleep. He had fallen asleep with him slumped over in the chair and his cheek resting on his arms which he had crossed and placed on the mattress. It had most likely been due to his own utter exhaustion and sleep deprivation that he had fallen into a sleep deep enough for him to not startle awake when the hand, which he had still been holding in his, even in his sleep, had twitched and pulled away with one sudden tug. Friedrich also had not woken up when Giacomo had let out a choked gasp, the latter‘s heart having almost stopped when he had perceived the presence of another at the side of his bed upon awakening, thinking, fearing that it could have been the duke. Giacomo had let out another sight, then a relieved one, when the realization of the person being no one but Friedrich had sunken in to him. His head had still been hurting with a throbbing pain and it still had felt as if the flames of a fire had licked against his chest, and Giacomo had touched the new bandage on his chest with gentle fingers, not daring to apply real pressure to it. He had blinked hard, trying to adjust to the brightness of the sunlight which had fallen directly upon him, and even though it, in combination to his fever, had produced a good amount of heat, Giacomo yet had felt cold and the hints of goosebumps. Barely able to surpress a shudder he had then realized that Friedrich being there with him, sleeping at his side, had not longer been a mere trick of either a dream or his feverous mind. He had sat up a bit higher on the pillows, wincing when the movement had caused the wound on his chest to stretch; there had been a blurred memory of the doctor scraping it out to get the infected tissue out, but Giacomo had not known whether it had really happened or not. It had been so long since he had last been able and allowed to watch Friedrich sleep, if Giacomo would have been honest with himself he had not remembered when he had last done so, and it had caused his vision to blurry from one second to another. Friedrich had came, oh he had really came for him... Giacomo had closed his eyes as they had flilled inexorably. “ _I am here, my love, he cannot hurt you anymore.”_ Oh, how he had missed his old life. He had missed the times when the only one that had called him “Liebling” had been Friedrich. Giacomo had appreciated the life he had lived in Potsdam, in Sanssouci, he really had, but not as much as he should have done it. _How could he ever..._ Giacomo had swallowed with his eyes still closed, and he had only opened them again when he had succeded with bringing the lump in his throat down, and before he really could have though or hesitate about it he had reached out with one shaking hand. It had been a familiar gesture, at least it once had been, to ease out the creases on Friedrich‘s forehead with gentle and ever repeating strokes. He had done so many, countless of times even, but in that moment it had been a great privilege to him, for he had dreamed about doing it for such a long time. Giacomo, too, had not been able to fathom could still want him, considering... Yes, considering that his honor, pride and dignity had been robbed from him over and over again. He had been disgraced, so how could Friedrich...

He had swallowed hard to get rid of the feeling of bile rising in his throat, he could have sworn that he had been able to feel Karl Eugen‘s hands on his body just right then in that moment, and it had been enough to make him shudder. Giacomo had been so utterly disgusted with himself; sure, he had been washed by the chambermaid since the duke had last came to pay him a visit, he had been washed twice, even, and yet he had wanted to do nothing more than to climb into a tub of hot water, take a spinge and rub every available inch of his skin raw to errade Karl Eugen‘s touches away until he would not longer feel dirty. _“I cannot believe how tight you are, it is no wonder that he liked to play with you as much as he did, Liebling.”“Look at you, Liebling, being a good little whore.” “Tell me that you like it, Liebling.”_ Giacomo had shuddered again, but had tried his hardest to focus his attention back towards the sleeping man. He had not known what Friedrich had done in the course in the course of the last few hours, from what he had been able to tell by looking outside the sun had reached its midday peak, but the dark circles, which had stood boldly around the older man‘s eyes, had been telling him enough. A corner of Giacomo‘s mouth had twitched up at that, Friedrich, as far as he had known it, had always tended towards working himself to exhaustion with just the slightest consideration for his own well-being and had often only came to bed when Giacomo had downright ordered him to. What an utterly gorgeous man he had been, touched by the years that had lived through in the best possible way. Every crease around the corners of his eye, and his mouth, had seemed to tell an individual story. _He is too good for you._ “No,” Giacomo had whispered, pulling his hand away from Friedrich to press both of his hands against his ears; it had not been the first time that he had heard the voice of the duke of Württemberg talking to him from the back of his mind, but if it would start to do so every time that he would do so much as think about Friedrich... It had not been fair, Giacomo had known it, but it had been his mind that had not even dared to touch the whole subject around Friedrich‘s hand on him. A shudder had went through his body and he had grasped at the blanked with clammy fingers as if it had been a lifeline; _Karl Eugen‘s breath against the side of his neck, Karl Eugen‘s hands in his hair, on his waist, prying his thighs apart. Karl Eugen‘s fingers digging into his cheeks, brushing against his lips, forcing themselves inside of him, scissoring him open with hard and brutal tugs_ \- Giacomo had drawn in a strangled, choked intake of breath as somewhat of a series of events had played in his mind. It had not been fair, Friedrich had done so much for him even though he had not deserved it, and Giacomo... His mind had been summersaulting over and over again, replaying words that he had heard and things that he had been forced to do and he had been unable to see how he could have stopped the carousel from turning.

Oh, if he would have been able to go and find himself a batch of the most random powder and consume it all at once Giacomo probably would have done so - or maybe not, considering that it would disappoint Friedrich greatly. Giacomo had known how the older had disliked his usage of the drugs, for he had claimed that Giacomo had downright played with his life, and since he had already been enough of a burden to Friedrich... The Italian had turned up his nose from the strange smell that had surrounded him and it had only been when he had turned his head that he had spotted the incense burner from which the herbal smelling smoke had been emerging from. While he had known that he had not been in the prime of his health, but for the doctor to do all of that just for him? _“Friedrich has spoilt you, Giacomo, I can easily see it.”_ Giacomo had not know it by then, but the duke of Württemberg‘s voice would later on become somewhat of a replacement for the small voice that had usually been there in the back of his head, a part of himself. _“Tsk tsk, you are always so demanding, Liebling.”_ He had squeezed his eyes close and had tried to concentrate on nothing but his own breathing; maybe it had been due to him having fallen sick with the fever, or because Friedrich had all so suddenly came for him but it had only sunken in to Giacomo in that moment just how much had changed, even if some of the changed had been hidden from his consciousness, too. When he had opened his eyes again they had, almost immediately and on their own accord, fallen upon the sleeping king of Prussia. How gorgeous he had been; Giacomo had tilted his head as he had allowed himself to marvel at Friedrich, who had taken possession of his heart. Before he had met Friedrich, the notorious king of Prussia, Giacomo had not been one to really deal with love. He had never stayed in the same bed for longer than one or two nights, had left a trail of broken hearts behind him wherever he had went, through all of Europe, and had, along the way, came to terms with the fact tht he simply had not been made for love. Well, and then he had decided to send a letter to Potsdam with aspirations to be granted an audience with Friedrich, of whom he had heard so many different rumors and whispers about. He had heard of the court of Sanssouci palace, of course, which had been made out of men only, something which, at that time, had been utterly unimaginable for the self-proclaimed prime example of a woman‘s lover. Giacomo had been told by various ambassadors that the king of Prussia had been arrogant, untouchable, a strange character through and through, so when he had set onto his journey to Potsdam the Italian had not known what to expect. And then he had gotten the acceptance letter and had came to Sanssouci to introduce himself to the king. He had met with him in the park, and Friedrich... yes, Friedrich had somehow, with all his sweet talking and subliminal flirtations, managed to sneak his way past Giacomo‘s self-proclaimed attraction to women only. Friedrich had complimented him, _“You are a beautiful man, Sire, do you know that?”_ , had kissed him and had managed to make Giacomo drop to his knees and please him right there, in the park of Sanssouci, before he had taken him into his royal chamber.

He had wished that he could, for at least one more time, be as excited and happy as he had been when Friedrich had first taken his hand to lead him into his bedroom, or when the king had first exclaimed his love for him. Giacomo had not even done so much as look at another woman since, so as if the encounter in the park had showed him what part of himself had been looked away, and just what he had been missing from his life. None of the countless women that he had been with had ever managed to bring out the feelings that Friedrich had brough out in him. Giacomo had winced before he could have stopped himself from doing so when Friedrich had let out a sudden and low, and somewhat endearing, sound in his sleep. It had indicated that the older had been waking up, and the realization of that had caused the tiniest bit of courage, which Giacomo had managed to build up, to disappear into thin air, and he had turned onto his side as quietly and inconspicuously as he could have done it. He had turned his back towards Friedrich, his breathing then coming in faster and more flatter huffs, which would have let anyone known that he had not been truly asleep. Giacomo would have liked to look at him, but he never could have done so - he had not mossed the way that Friedrich had hesitated when Giacomo had embraced his middle, the way Friedrich‘s arms had closed around him almost reluctantly. So, as if he had been disgusted to touch him. _“Of course, he had not longer been worth it.”_ Giacomo had been trembling where he had been lying on his side, for the position had been quite uncomfortable and painful, putting a strain onto his wound, as he had listened to the shuffling that Friedrich had made as he had woken up. The king of Prussia had groaned when he had sat up as soon as his eyes had fluttered open, groaning again, that time in pain, as he had stretched, an action which had triggered an audible crack out of his spine. He truly had been too old to be able to sleep in a chair. Friedrich had ran both of his hands over his face, yawning the last bit of tiredness away; he had not known how long he had been out for, but since he had, over the years, learned to function with mere three or four hours per night, it had been enough for him to feel refreshened and much less exhausted. Looking over at Giacomo, he had realized that the younger had turned away from him in his sleep, and Friedrich‘s brows had pulled together for a split second when he had noticed the slight tremble that had seemed to have taken possession of Giacomo‘s body. _W_ _ere the worries ever to stop._ “Giacomo?” He had stood from the chair to sit down onto the edge of the bed, and Giacomo had not been as asleep as Friedrich had believed him to be, since he had turned his head to hide his face in the depths of the pillow when a hand had came to rest on the crease of his neck. Equally worried and confused at Giacomo‘s behaviour Friedrich had squeezed his lover‘s neck a bit, hoping that he could thus show him that he had cared, but the only answer his touch had gotten him had been a whimpered, “Do not.”

Friedrich had pulled his hand back as fast as if he had been burned by Giacomo; oh he very well could have slapped himself for being stupid enough to believe that his lover had wanted to be touched like that. “I am sorry, I...”, he had began, but had trailed off without finishing his sentence. He had not known what else he could have possibly said. “Do you want me to get the doctor?” Giacomo had freed his face from the pillow again, and from his position Friedrich had been able to see that his eyes had been filled. “No,” had been all that the younger had whispered before he had fallen into silence again, and while Friedrich had been yearning to hear more words from his lover, he had not forced him. “Are you in pain?”, he had asked next, his voice having dropped almost as low as Giacomo‘s and he had swallowed when his lover had sounded suspicously choked-up as he had answered. “No.” Giacomo had pulled up the thin blanked a bit higher, pulling it tighter around him. He had not understood why Friedrich had been sitting there, looking down at him with soft eyes. Why had Friedrich been doing it? Staying there at his side and talking to him with a gentle voice had been no obligation of him, no duty that he had to fullfill as a king. Giacomo could take it, he really could. He had known, after all, that he had not longer been worth it. Friedrich had squeezed his hands together, his own eyes feeling just as wet as Giacomo‘s had been. It had been his fault, he should not have been so surprised that Giacomo had not wanted to be touched by him. _His fault._ Friedrich had cleared his throat and had stood from the bed, even though his mind had yelled at him to stay another part of him had known that he should leave Giacomo alone if the younger so clearly desired it. He never would have blamed him for it. _His fault._ Friedrich had stood glued to the spot for a good few moments, unsure about what to say and in the end he had edged towards the door with defeated silence and his shoulders slumped. “I love you,” he had said as he had opened the door and had thrown a last look over his shoulder, voice barely raised above a whisper; his heart had been aching, every beat of it had pushed further dispair through Friedrich. It had ached him to leave, if he only could have shown his Giacomo... He had closed the door behind him, and Giacomo had, as soon as he had heard the _click_ of the lock, pulled out one of the pillows from underneath him and had pressed it against his face. Friedrich had left, leaving him alone with the remnants of Karl Eugen‘s touches on his skin and the duke‘s voice in his mind.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I'm _so_ unhappy with how this chapter turned out - I worked on it for days and yet it's fairly short and not really what I imagined it to be :-( But oh well, these things happen, right?
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Friedrich had allowed himself to exhale shakingly when he had closed the door of Giacomo‘s sickroom behind him, and his hand had limply slid off the gilded knob of the door after having rested on it for a good few couple of moments in an almost defeated manner. Oh, defeated the king of Prussia had been indeed, in a way at least. Only he could have been stupid and gullible enough to believe that Giacomo would still find comfort in his presence and security in his touches despite the fact that it had all been Friedrich‘s fault. Sure, Giacomo had initiated their first real bodily interaction, had wrapped his arms around Friedrich and had hidden his face in his middle while he had been crying, but given the way that the younger had reacted to Friedrich‘s hand resting upon him just then, Friedrich had guessed that Giacomo, with his mind not as feverious as before, had since came to the true terms of what had happened; and most importantly, just how crucial Friedrich‘s involvement had been. He had been loosing him, not to the cruel fate of death like Friedrich had feared he would, but despite that, the loss that he had been facing all so obviously then had not been much less painful. “Is everything in order, Your Majesty?” Friedrich had drawn in a deep, and somewhat abrupt, breath as he had opened his eyes and looked at the doctor, who had raised onto his feet, from where he had been sitting in a chair at the opposite wall, and had taken a few steps into the king of Prussia‘s direction. “Does the Sire require anything, Your Majesty?” Friedrich had shaken his head, just once, as it had taken him a few seconds until he had been able to trust himself enough to use his voice. “Neither of us do require your service at the moment, thank you.” He had been aware of the fact that he had not sounding as convincing as he would have liked, and needed to, given his name and title, and he had been just as aware of the doctor having noticed it, for the other had titled his head, barely and just for a short moment. The physician had, of course, not even dreamed of possessing the boldness to adress it to the monarch directly. “Your Majesty,” the medic had thus merely said before he had sat back down, turning his attention towards the book he had been reading and Friedrich had not payed him any further attention. He had sharply turned on his heels and had strode off down the corridor that would bring him to the main staircase - Friedrich had hoped that it would do so, at least, for his vision had turned blurry the second he had turned away from the doctor.

 _Your fault._ He had tried to blink as little as he possibly could in hope that it would prevent any tears from really leavig his eyes; he never could have dared to lose his face, his façade, at a court that was not his own. Friedrich had been absolutely clueless as to where he could go, and the helplessness that he had been facing his situation had drove further unwanted tears into his eyes. He had direly needed to be somewhere, anywhere, really, where he could be with nothing but his constricted throat and the burning ache in his heart. The latter had been so fierce and burning so brightly that it had made the pain his his leg feel like a simple scratch in comparison to it, and Friedrich had hurried to get down the stairs of the grand escalier as fast as he could, only stopping once when his injured leg had almost given in under his weight. _Breathe, Fritz, do not forget to breathe._ The king of Prussia had passed a handful of his own men as well as a few members of the court of Karl Eugen, which had greeted him all so respectfully before continuing to talk about him behind their raised hands or fans. Friedrich had payed them no mind, he could not have cared less about meaningless court talk when his life had been crumpling right there underneath his hands and at a rapid speed, and he had snarled a quite vicious “Stay right where you are” at the Württembergian guards that had stood at each side of the large, double-winged entrance door when they had motioned to step into his way and open it. He had pushed it open himself, zestfully at that, and had gasped as he had stepped outside into the bright light of the high-standing sun, squinting his eyes at and shielding them from the sudden brightness. His heart had been so indescribably heavy, because, how else could it have been, really, there had been memories creeping up into his mind, memories from about a year ago when he had spend many hours, countless, even, in the gardens of his palace with the man he loved at his side. In that moment, those memories had been no more than a pile of broken glass, of shards that had cut into Friedrich‘s heart with aspirations of making him bleed. Oh, and bleeding he had been. Profusely, more than he had ever believed he had been capable of doing and so as if his love for Giacomo had been everything that had been running through his veins. He would not have been surprised if it had been the truth. _Your fault._ Friedrich had taken the steps of the outside spiral staircase down into the courtyard and had, by then, been downright squeezing the handle of his cane in order to somehow not break down on the spot. _Your fault._ He had looked around as he had reached the courtyard, trying to figure out where to go and eventually deciding to take the route through the passway. If the gardens had already been created, considering how recent the construction of the palace had been finished, Friedrich‘s gut feeling had told him that he would found them there. _Your fault._ His gut had been right, for he had not needed to walk for more than two, maybe three minutes, until he had found himself surrounded by tall hedges on three sides, and the king of Prussia had barely made it over to wards the single bench before the last bit of his composure had crumbled. The first of many choked-up sobs had escaped him and Friedrich had burried his face in his hands, rocking his upper body back and forth as it had been shaken from the force of his sobs. _It is all your fault._

Friedrich had been lucky enough to have found a corner of the garden where no one had been as a witness to his breakdown, but even if a soul would have been there he would not have managed to keep himself from crying his pain out. The tears and the sobs had broken out of him much like water that would flow past a broken dam; the flow of tears only supported by the fact that it had all been his fault, that he had no one else to blame but himself. Oh, he had known that the man he loved had been at a high possible risk, there had been a warning burning on his tongue when he had helped Giacomo into the carriage and as they had said their farewells. A part of him had wanted to warn the younger, to let him known of the dangers that he could be met with and thus, maybe, presuade him into staying with Friedrich instead, had urged for Friedrich to step in and cancel the whole operation, to permit the man he loved from leaving Potsdam, or rather Sanssouci, in general. But Friedrich, in his foolishness and blind disbelieve, had decided to bite his tongue. He had decided to not listen to his own consciousness and to those that had been in the closest circle around him, to those that had warned him about Karl Eugen of Württemberg‘s possible revenge plans more than just one time. It had been his decision to ignore it, he could have prevented it, could have saved Giacomo from the pain and the horrors that he had been forced to endure if only he had listened. He could have, but he had not done so, and thus for Giacomo to be so repellent to him, to speak no more than single words with him... Friedrich had no one to blame but his pitiful self, and maybe it had been that significant detail that had made it so difficult for him to deal with it all. _Your fault._ Had he not been punished enough in his life? What had he done that all he apparently could do was to bring pain to those he would allow to get close to him? He had cleared his throat one time, than another as he had roughly wiped at the wetness on his face, a motion which had been no more than a futile attempt, really, for the tears that he would wipe away would be replaced with new ones almost immediately. Friedrich had hated himself for it, but he had never seemed to be able to stop himself from thinking about his godforsaken father when he had been in a situation similar to the one that he had been in right then, when he had sitting on the bench as no more than an excuse of a king, sure that he could hear Friedrich Wilhelm‘s bone-chilling laugh coming from somewhere behind him. He had lowered his head to look at his hands, absentmindedly fidgeting with his fingers as further tears had made their way down his face. _His Giacomo... that would no longer be his, that he had no longer had the right to call his._ Friedrich had swallowed hard; his heart had already been broken by the prospect of losing the man he loved because of his own actions and being able to do nothing about it, but it had been shattered beyond repair when he had felt Giacomo trembling under his hand. How should he... how _could_ he live on? How on earth would he be able to leave Stuttgart all alone, to return home without the person that had made it his home? As he had raised his head to look at the cloudless summer sky with squinting eyes he had no doubt that Giacomo would return to Venice as soon as his health would allow him to ride a carriage and Friedrich would not have been able to blame him for that, either. He had caused harm to him for the second time, and although he had not been been an active part in it that time, he had understood that Giacomo would no longer want to be so close to him.

As much as it would hurt him and as much as it would tear him apart, he would not force the younger man to stay at his side. If Giacomo would want to leave Stuttgart en route for Venice, he would have no less than the king of Prussia‘s blessing for the journey. But what about him? Friedrich‘s breath had hitched, what had he been supposed to do? Friedrich had ordered and implemented the execution of the frenchman, thus avening Giacomo, his Giacomo, as far as he, as a king, could have done it without truly risking the start of an entirely new war. His men had been working to identifying those who had been participating in the intrigue and the kidnapping while his ministers had been negotiating with those of the Karl Eugen of Württemberg. So what had he, Friedrich, been supposed to do? He had wiped at his face, sighing wearily simply because his heart had been so painfully heavy and because he, as he had sat there on the bench, had been left with no more than a slightest bit of hope. While he had not necessarily wanted to he had needed to return to Prussia as soon as he could to put Elisabeth Christine, that pain in the neck, back into her place, but Friedrich simply... had not considered the possibility of him having to return to Potsdam without his Giacomo at his side, without his sun, without the brightest star of his life. _Tsk tsk Friedrich, you do know that he is no longer yours, do you not? Because he is not. You lost him, and it is all your fault. Giacomo is no longer yours_ , the nagging voice in the back of his mind had reminded him, incidentally and yet with a certain cruelty. The voice had been right, however, and the realization that it had been had utterly torn Friedrich into two parts, leaving a gaping wound behind. So, he had though, this had been how they had been destined to end: once more due to his own foolish mistake, and he had wished that he would have been able to just close his eyes and find himself thrown back in time once he would open them again. _It had been the first night that they had spend together, the first formal court event that Giacomo had spend at Sanssouci, after he had somewhat rescued the younger from the bold flirtations of Philippe de Lorraine. He had taken Giacomo‘s hand and they had ran off into the night together, away from the crowds and the fireworks. They had ran while laughing like youths, for their both had drank their fair share of wine that night. He had not needed to think twice about where he had wanted to take Giacomo, for he had imagined about taking someone there ever since he had moved his court into his home, his Sanssouci. He had noticed how Giacomo had seemed to have been slightly out of breath, holding his sides as he had tried to regulate his breathing. He had told him of the small hill that they had came to stand on being his favorite place, and Giacomo had understood._

The ghost of a smile had flitted over Friedrich‘s face, _they had barely known each other and yet Giacomo had said that he had understood and had seen why. “Would it be alright for me to kiss you?” He had not forgotten how his heart had skipped a beat when the younger had asked him that, and there had been a pair of lips on him just a second after he had answered with an “Of course, yes.” His body had reacted to the touches almost immediately, and his member had hardened before Giacomo had even brushed his hand against it for the first time. “Who did this to you,” Giacomo had whispered after he had layed eyes upon the many crisscrossing and silver scars on his chest, and Giacomo‘s fingers had been so very gently as he had ran their pads over the raised skin. He had not told him the truth, had instead chosen the excuse of his father having caught him during a flute lesson for the moment had been far too precious to ruin in with memories of times that dark. They had kissed, slow, sensual movements with their tongues dancing around each other._ Friedrich had remembered just how he had marveled at the sheer beauty of Giacomo‘s hair being illuminated by the cold light of the crescent moon. It had been a heartwarming memory, and a heartbreaking one at the same time.  _He had pulled out the small vial of lubricant oil, which he had stacked in the pocket of his trousers beforehand, and oh how Giacomo‘s eyes had glistered with mischief. He had known, right there, that he had lost his heart to the cheerful and endearingly blushing Italian. He had prepared him, or had tried to, at least, for he had not missed how Giacomo had winced when he had pushed the second oiled finger into him, causing him to pull his digits out as fast as he could have done it without causing any harm. Friedrich had not known why he had not remembered how sore Giacomo must still had been - he had taken him for the first time a few hours ago, an act which would almost certainly leave the receiving one sore. Giacomo had optioned that he could still take him, that Giacomo could handle it, but he had silenced him with a snap, stating that he would not do so. He had smiled at the huff his lover had let out, it had been utterly endearing, and had moved to lay down next to him in the grass. The ground had been warm from the many hours that it had been exposed to the summer‘s sun, the night sky had been untouched by any cloud, thus making it possible for them to gaze at the stars. They had laid there, mostly undressed and their fingers interlocked, simply enjoying the moment._ Heartbreaking, it had been, absolutely heartbreaking. The king of Prussia had shaken his head at himself as he had continued to look up at the bright blue of the sky. So, what had he been supposed to do when he had been so clearly losing him? He had not known what had driven into him, but he had bend down to collect his cane off the floor and had raised onto his feet within a mere moment, his mind still circling around the same question as he had made his way back towards the palace.

In the meantime, Wilhelm had been hurrying from practically one end of the palace of Solitude to another in what must had been the fifth time while searching for His Majesty, the king of Prussia. The armoured man that he had crossed path with and had asked had merely stated that they had been clueless regarding the king‘s whereabouts and when Wilhelm had checked the makeshift sleeping chamber of His Majesty he had found it empty with no sign of His Majesty having slept in the bed and the plate of food, that he, Wilhelm, had brought in the prior evening, had been left untouched as well. He had tried to keep the curses that had escaped him under his breath as he had strode through yet another one of the endlessly long corridors. While he had known that His Majesty had not went through the entire series of events untouched - he had witnessed how restless His Majesty had been, in Potsdam as well as during the journey, but even as his rank as the first valet it would not have been within his rights to make a comment about His Majesty‘s way of coping with the stressful situation. Wilhelm had been utterly worried, despite His Majesty‘s best tries to hide it the valet had very well seen how His Majesty‘s gate had worsened and how the bags under His Majesty‘s eyes had darkened in color. Oh, his wife had known just how much he had worried, as it had been all that his letters, which Wilhelm had send home, had told of nothing but the worry he had harboured for His Majesty. _“My worries for him keep me up at night, Liselotte, and mark my words as nothing but the truth,” he had written in his last letter, “and they go way beyond those which my duties require of me. Ever since the Monsieur had been taken from His Majesty‘s side he has not been the same. His Majesty spends night after night walking up and down in his study, trying to calm my worries by telling me that he would go to bed in a short while. Oh, Liselotte, just last night, when I lay restlessly in bed, I began to ask myself what I would do if it were me, instead of His Majesty, facing such a great loss, if I would lose you, my dear... And suddenly, I was able to understand His Majesty well enough.”_ It had been no lie, he had understood his king, but his duty as a first valet had been to make sure that the king of Prussia would be adequately cared for. In all the hustle and bustle that had been going on as an aftermath of the Monsieur‘s abduction the question of succession had shifted into the background; the prospect of young Friedrich Wilhelm following on the throne had been a horror to all, including the king himself, for Friedrich Wilhelm had truly lived up to his name. His Majesty had made plans to change the line of succession in favor of young Henry, and Wilhelm, as well as most others, had high hopes that it would happen. Wilhelm had shaken his head as he had moved around yet another corner; it had not been the right time for thoughts as such, but since said thoughts had consumed him so, he had almost ran into another person that had lingered in the corridor. “I apologize, Sire,” Wilhelm had hurried to speak as he had came to a sudden halt. The other had chuckled, “It is alright, I have not noticed you either, Sire,” holding up the book that he had been reading and Wilhelm had then recognized the man as the doctor from Stuttgart, the duke of Württember‘s physician. “How is the Monsieur? Has his condition improved?” The doctor had let out an almost inaudibly sigh, and had closed the book before he had answered with a lower voice, so, as if someone else could have been eavesdropping. “The fever somewhat has, Sire. It is his mind that worries me greatly. Ever since His Majesty left he has been crying, and neither I nor any other can console him.”

“His Majesty has been here?” Wilhelm had considered to speak to Monsieur Casanova himself, but really, what could he have said, so he had discarded that idea as soon as it ha “Oh yes indeed,” the doctor had nodded. “His Majesty has spend the night at the the Sire‘s side.” Wilhelm could have snorted, it had been standing right in front of his eyes and he yet had managed to miss it. Of course he would not leave his lover‘s side, he should have considered it. “But His Majesty has left...,” the physician had trailed off to check his pocket watch, “approximately fourty minutes ago.” “You do not know where His Majesty had gone, do you.” “No, I do not. Though His Majesty had looked to be somewhat disheveled, if I may say so.” Wilhelm‘s brows had pulled together, the other‘s words doing nothing to ease his worry. With the years of experience that he had gathered while standing in the king of Prussia‘s service, he had known that he had needed to find him. Preferably as soon as he could only possibly do it, for it had been his duty. “Good day, then. I must be off.” “Good day to you too, Sire.” The two men had nodded at each other and with that, Wilhelm had set into motion again, continuing to strode down the corridor. If his king had still been out and about and had not seeked refuge in an, to him, unknown chamber, Wilhelm had one last guess as to where he could find him, but as it had turned out, he had not even needed to go there. “Your Majesty!” Friedrich had closed his eyes and had sighed inwardly when he had seen, and heard, his valet from the top of the stairs. He had not avoided him per se, he simply had not been eager to meet him and to be reminded of his duties again, for the world of memories that he had burried himself in had been so much more pleasant. “Wilhelm,” Friedrich had thus merely said as he had taken the last flight of stairs until he had stood next to his valet. He had known that his eyes must had been red-rimmed and swollen, and that Wilhelm would not need to take more than one look at him to _know._ “I was beginning to worry about you, Sire, when I could not find you,” Wilhelm‘s voice had gained a soft edge to it; he had been very familiar with the vulnerable side of the king of Prussia though he had never seen him like that outside of the four walls of his study, having obviously cried. He had not commented on it, of course. “I need to know whether or not I have a carriage to spare by the end of the day.” Obviously taken aback by the king‘s words, the valet had blinked hard and fast for a couple of times, “Excuse me, Sire, but I do not seem to understand what you are getting at.” Friedrich had clenched his jaws together, him being forced to speak it out had been exactly why he had wanted to withdraw to a hidden corner and stay there until... “If I do not have a carriage to spare I will need to organize for me to get another, since one is not enough to take two people onto two different journeys.” If Wilhelm had believed to have been confused prior to having his king say that, he had been utterly baffled afterwards. “Two different journeys, Sire? I apologize for being so boneheaded, I simply do not -” “I believe that,” Friedrich had swallowed, “Monsieur Casanova will not accompany us to Potsdam.”

“What?” The surprised expression had slipped out of Wilhelm‘s mouth before he could have regained control over his tongue, and he had cleared his throat when he had became aware of his mistake. “May I ask as for why, Sire? Those are... unexpected news.” Friedrich had clenched his teeth before he had spoken, “Because he does not want to do so.” The valet had not known just what he had expected to hear, but that certainly had not been it. “Why?” “I do believe that you already know the reason as for why he cannot bear to be at my side any longer, Wilhelm, it is no surprise.” He had whispered the last part and had averted his eyes down to inspect the tip of his cane, simply because he had not wanted to look at the valet when there had been tears rising into his eyes. Speaking it out had made it real, oh it had made it so painfully real. “I apologize for being so slow today, Sire.” “It is quite alright.” “Has he really told you so, Sire?” Friedrich had opened his mouth to answer, but it had hung open as he had suddenly found himself unable to answer. “No, he... did not, but I know that he does. I cannot blame him.” Friedrich‘s head had been, just as the valet had suspected, too wrapped around the prospect of grief to understand how contradictory his answers had been, and he had spoken once more before Wilhelm had been given the chance to. “Thus I need to know if there is a carriage...” His words had died down when there had something clasped down around his neck, that had tightened its hold much like an invisible hand, and Friedrich had half turned away to close his eyes. He had hated himself for not being strong enough to hide how much he had been suffering, how hopelessly he had been facing the situation and his future. _His future, ha_. What kind of future had he left? He would return to Prussia and spend the time he had left embittered and lonely, much like his father had done it, without Giacomo, without any light in his life that had been drenched in darkness for the majority of it. “Yes, Sire, I do understand,” Wilhelm had answered, though he really had not understood - he had not been able to image for His Majesty and the Monsieur to go seperate ways, and given the way that his king had acted around him, Wilhelm had began to realize that it had not been only him who had struggled to accept it as the truth. “Did you sleep, Sire? And have you eaten something?” Friedrich had shaken his head and smiled, slightly and with such an open sadness that it had alarmed the valet greatly. “There is no need for any worry regarding me. I will be fine.” “Sire -” “Let it be, Wilhelm, let it be. Take care of him instead.” The king of Prussia had lowered his gaze and had nodded at his first valet before he had brushed past him; most courtiers, or those that had not taken Friedrich‘s arrival as their sign to leave the court of the duke, would surely sojourn in one of the salons, playing cards and amusing themselves, though Friedrich had no aspirations to join them. He had not spoken another thing as he had walked down the corridor, heavily leaned onto his cane.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for it being so short, but since I'm currently suffering from somewhat of a writer's block I'm glad that I managed to finish this at all lol.
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Wilhelm had looked after his king in disbelief, how had it been possible for him to have changed so rapidly over the course of a few hours? Of what had not even been an entire day? The valet had not known just what it had been that had edged him wrongly, but he simply had not been able to make himself believe in the king of Prussia’s words. Monsieur Casanova setting out for a journey back to Italy? Wilhelm had highly doubted that and while it had been his duty, as the person who had stood the closest to the king, to advise him when it would be needed, Wilhelm would have to neglect his duty in that case. He had very well known that it would be anything but a good idea to mention the topic surrounding the Monsieur around the king, a circumstance which had reminded the valet of the darkest times that he had went through as the first valet of the king of Prussia’s side. Wilhelm had stood broodingly at the top of the stairs for a few moments; it had been his duty as well as his personal concern to sort this situation out before it would burry His Majesty under its massive waves, even if it would mean that Wilhelm must deceive the king in order to do so. Deceiving had been a hard word, His Majesty had told him that he should take care of Monsieur Casanova - _“There is no need for any worry regarding me.” “Take care of him instead.”_ \- so if he would have a mere and simple talk with the Monsieur it would not really be an act of deceivement, would it? Knowing that any further contemplaining would be an unnecessary waste of time, the valet had set into movement and had walked en route to the Monsieur’s sickroom, his hands loosely held behind his back and his pace quick and determined. He had not been really surprised when he had, after having turned around the last corner of the corridor, spotted the hunched figure in one of the chairs that had stood on each side of the sickroom’s door. Friedrich had propped one of his elbows up onto the armrest and had shielded his eyes with the hand of the arm that he had propped up, bouncing his healthy leg in a manner of distress. It had not been his plan to sit there, but... it had been the closest that he could have been to Giacomo in that moment, since he had not been able to go inside like he would have liked to do, and the longing for just that closeness had gained the upper hand.

So the king of Prussia had sat there, so close to Giacomo and yet as far as he possibly could have been. Friedrich had been able to make out the muffled voice of the doctor, who had since disappeared in the room to chek on Giacomo, and the way it had seemed it had only been the physician that had spoken in some sort of monologue. “Sire.” He had only startled into a more upright sitting position when the voice of his valet had pulled him from the depths of his thoughts rather abruptly. “What are you doing here, Wilhelm,” Friedrich had said with a flat voice, hoping that the way he had been wiping at his face had not been too tale-telling. “I came here to speak with the Monsieur, Sire.” The king’s face had somewhat fallen before he could have prevented it from doing so, and he had not answered to his valet, not verbally at least, for he had merely clenched his jaws together. He would have liked to make a comment about how he had not been asked about this beforehand, but Friedrich no longer had the right, the _privilege_ to be asked in regard to someone that had no longer been his. The king of Prussia and his first valet had fallen into a heavy and uncomfortable silence, which had only been interrupted when the door of the sickroom, or former prison cell, depending on how one would look at it, had been opened from the inside and the doctor had stepped out into the corridor a few minutes later, holding the iron bowl in which the herbs had been burned in. “Your Majesty,” the doctor had greeted the monarch before he had given a nod into the direction of the valet. “Is the Monsieur awake?” “He is, Sire,” the physician had answered, putting the bowl down in order to be able to push his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. “What would be the reason for you asking, Sire?” “Is it possible for me to speak with him?” Both Friedrich and the valet had looked at the physician with their brows pulled together when the Württembergian had sighed before he had used his words to answer. “When I tried to speak to the Sire, he... did not react to it at all.” Friedrich had swallowed and had aversed his eyes away from the doctor, feeling a hot wave of shame break over him. _Your fault, Fritz. It is all your fault._ “So is it possible -” “Yes, you may try to speak to him, Sire, though I would strongly advise you to not put too much of a strain onto the Sire. He is still weak.” “I will keep that in mind,” Wilhelm had said. He had nodded at the physician and had looked at the king of Prussia before he had moved towards the door, knocking at it twice but entering without waiting for a permission to do so. “Monsieur Casanova?” The valet had closed the door behind him as silently as he could have done it and had approached the Italian almost carefully, one stap at a time, for the last thing he had wanted to do had been to scare the Monsieur.

Giacomo had still, or again, been resting on the stack of pillow, on his back, staring out of the opened window with an utterly expressionless face. The king’s first valet had taken him in for a few moments before he had pulled himself together and had closed the last bit of distance between him and the Monsieur. Wilhelm had sat himself down in the chair that had stood next to the bed, suddenly feeling pretty much out of place. He, the first valet, had no idea what the Monsieur had gone through in the very detail, and if he would have been honest with himself, he would have conceded that he had not really wanted to know it all. The few horrors that had been forwarded to him, whether it had been through His Majesty or the duke of Württemberg, had been more than enough. Wilhelm had cleared his throat, had dangled his folded hands between his spread legs and had leaned over before he had spoken with a low and gently voice, “Are you feeling better, Monsieur?” Oh, he had been aware that it had been a very weak attempt, but he had needed to start a conversation in some way; though no answer had came to his question. The younger man had not even blinked, or so it had seemed, and Wilhelm had then been able to understand why His Majesty’s mood had changed in the way that it had. Looking at the Monsieur had been like looking at something which had resembled no more than the shell of a man. “There is only one topic that I have to talk to you about, Monsieur. I do promise to leave you alone as soon as it is done.” That time, Wilhelm’s words had struck its target, for Giacomo had closed his chapped lips, had swallowed hard and had looked at the valet for no more than the split of a second before he had turned his head back to gaze out of the window again. The single look had been enough of a sign for Wilhelm to continue. “If it happens to be your desire to travel back to Italy, one of His Majesty’s royal carriages can easily be arranged for your usage, Monsieur. All I need to set it into motion is your words. Nothing more than that.” The valet’s guess that the king of Prussia had gotten a completely wrong impression of the Monsieur’s desires had been confirmed when the Italian had gasped and had quickly turned his face away from Wilhelm, who had been very much able to see how the Monsieur’s hands, which had been gripping at the blanket, had been trembling. “If... the king wishes me to leave I will leave,” Giacomo had answered, his voice cracking and rather on the low side as he had kept his face firmly hidden from the valet’s gaze. Wilhelm had shaken his head, how had it been possible for two people to have understood it so wrongly and, more importantly, how could it be fixed? “Has His Majesty told you that he wishes for you to travel back to Venice, Monsieur?” A few moments of silence had passed and when Giacomo had slowly turned his head to look at Wilhelm, his eyes had been rimmed red and there had been silent tears making their way down his cheeks, which had been tinted red from his fever and Wilhelm, again, would have been lying if he would have stated that he had not been touched by the sight. “No,” the younger man had breathed out, his tear-filled eyes glassy and somewhat unfocused as they had landed on a spot on the valet’s chest, “he has not, but I... cannot blame... His Majesty for not wanting me anymore.”

Giacomo had gotten choked up before he had even reached the end of his sentence and had closed his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering as another pair of twin tears. He had quickly turned his face away from the valet once more, leaving Wilhelm with a clear sight of the bruises that had been littering the side of his neck. The older man had been at a loss for words, but had managed to catch himself rather fast and spoke, after clearing his throat, “He does not want you to leave.” He had done so without a formal adress, for it would have felt strange to do so, considering how personal their... conversation, even if almost one-sided, had been. Giacomo had merely snorted humourlessly, pulling up his nose and wiping at it with the back of his hand. He had not spoken, had not said a word, and the valet had felt the sudden urge to make sure that the Monsieur would be convinced of the truth. “I do mean it, he does not want you to leave. He told me so himself.” To be fair His Majesty had not said so directly, but the message behind his words had been clear nonetheless so it had not been a lie. “It would hurt him greatly if you were to leave.” There, once more, had not came an answer from the younger man and Wilhelm had been very much able to see just how much the Monsieur had been struggling. Giacomo had not known what he could have made out of what he had been told by Friedrich’s... by the king of Prussia’s valet. Maybe the valet had lied because he had believed that it would comfort him, Giacomo, but then again, considering that it would be anything but wise for the first valet to life about his king’s words. _It also had not been wise for His Grace to..._ Giacomo had swallowed and continued to stare out of the window, his fingers fidgeting with the thin fabric of the blanket covering him. He had wanted to think, to sort out the troubled world of his thoughts, but had not been able to do so. He had been tired, oh so tired, and with his head already hurting with a throbbing ache, overthinking had not been a possibility. Giacomo had opened his mouth to speak, but except words there had been another choked that had escaped from it. He had been so tired and lonely, and so utterly disgusted with himself, wishing that it all would just stop. “I will leave you alone for now, Monsieur,” the valet had said, slowly standing up from the chair that he had been sitting in. “I do know that this must be incredibly hard for you, Monsieur, and I do not ask of more from you than to mark my words as the truth.” With that Wilhelm had turned around and had walked away, trying to keep his own anger at bay. Oh, he had not only been angry, he had been downright fuming. To see what the godforsaken duke of Württemberg had caused, the sheer pain that it had brought onto the king of Prussia and the Monsieur had affected the valet, too; it had left him with the duty of picking up the broken pieces and put them back together as good as he could do without stepping into both of their private lives too much.

Wilhelm had sighed when had closed the door behind him, having seen the usually cheerful and vital Monsieur so dull and absent minded had moved something inside of him. The valet had not wanted to imagine how it must had been for His Majesty to see the Monsieur like that. While the doctor had since been gone when Wilhelm had stepped out into the corridor again, the king of Prussia had still been slumped in the same chair as before, looking at his first valet with wide and vulnerable eyes, so, as if he had been hoping that Wilhelm would bring him some sort of salvation. “Has he spoken to you?” The valet had sat down in the free chair, which had stood on the other side of the door, thus sitting opposite of his king. “He has, Sire, though no more than a few simple words.” Friedrich had nodded slowly, clearing his throat and changing his position in the chair so that he had been turned towards his valet a bit further. He would have liked to question him about every single detail, but Friedrich also had not wanted to seem too desperate, even if he had been just that. “Did you ask him if...” He had trailed off, hoping that his valet would get the hint nonetheless, which Wilhelm luckily had. “I did, Sire, but all he said was that he will travel back to Venice,” the valet had spoken, with a slow voice and all while keeping a close eye on the king as he had done so. Friedrich had winces as if Wilhelm’s words had ran a whole array of knifes into his stomach. “Only if you want him to, Sire.” “I do not want him to leave me,” the king of Prussia had presses his lips together when he had realized just how fast those words had rolled over his tongue, and since he had looked down at his hands he had missed the smile on his valet’s face. It had been a complicated but not unsolvable situation, Wilhelm had known. “If I may say so, Sire, it is just what I thought.” The valet had paused for a short moment, “I fear that the Monsieur has went through too much to see it as clearly as you are seeing it, Sire.” Another pause had followed. “I believe that you must show him, Sire.” “Show him what?”, Friedrich had rasped out, running a hand over his face with once rough motion. “That you really mean it, Sire.” Both men had grown silent as Friedrich had allowed the words to since in and as Wilhelm had tried to make out any change in his king’s appearance, but his expectations had been disappointed when Friedrich’s shoulders had sacked once more. “I do not know how, Wilhelm. Oh, I do not know how.” The king had hidden his face in his hands, letting out a sigh of exhaustion that had sounded suspiciously unsteady. He could not face it, the loss that had been standing in front of him so inescapable. Sure, deep down he had already known that his valet had never given him any reason to not trust his words, and neither had he done so then. Friedrich simply had been hurting too badly, seeing what his gentle Giacomo had to endure because of his own inability had consumed him. He had been at a wit’s end, if he were to apologize for what he had caused, for the pain he had brought onto him, how could he even do so? Friedrich could not touch him, as Giacomo had so obviously not been comfortable with it. He could not really speak to him, because really, what had there been to say? Words would not fix it. He could not even give him a hug. It had been hopeless. Friedrich had been foolish enough to believe that he would just get the man he loved back, and right in that moment, he had realized just what it would mean.

He had been sitting there, outside in the corridor, instead of in the room and at Giacomo’s bedside. It had been his doings that had banned him away from the room; it had been his doings, his decision that had not longer made it possible for him to touch his Giacomo, his Giacomo, without making him tremble. Whether it had been out of fear, disgust or rejection Friedrich had not known, but it had been enough to break his heart regardless. “What am I supposed to do, Wilhelm,” he had whispered, sounding as if he had been on the very edge of another abyss of tears, though given the way he had been wiping at his face had surely told the valet that Friedrich had long jumped over it. Friedrich had let out the first strangled sob while Wilhelm had tried to come up with something that he could possibly say, hiding his face in his hands again, fully that time, hunching over a bit as he had tried to silent his cries. He had not been fond of showing emotion so openly, so under the public eyes, for everyone that would have walked the corridor would have been able to witness the king of Prussia crumbling into a sobbing nothing. “What am I supposed to do,” Friedrich had repeated with a broken whisper, renouncing to look at his valet, who had stayed silent, for he had not been sure about just what he could say that would help His Majesty.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to push through my writer's block, so a big thank you to those that are still reading it even though I'm not on top of my game and I somewhat lost the inspiration to continue this. This story deserves to be finished before it's time for something new, though, so I'll definitely finish it. Even if it takes some time.
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

It had taken a few days longer than either Friedrich, the first valet or Giacomo himself had believed it to, but Giacomo had eventually turned towards what the doctor had called “a slow but certain road to recovery”. The wound on his chest had scabbed, the infected redness around its edges ceasing together with the fever which had tortured him in all its might. Giacomo had still been confined to the bed with strict orders, for the doctor had proclaimed that he would only allow the Sire to leave it once he would be able to stand on his feet without feeling dizzy and almost fainting after a few short moments. Giacomo, of course, had wordlessy agreed to it all; to the constant bedrest, to the daily cleaning of the wound on his chest as well as those futher down his body, and also the the way that the chambermaid, on a direct order from the doctor, would spoon feed him five small broth or soup based meals a day as if it had been the most normal thing. Due to the circumstance that Karl Eugen had decided to give him only little and irregularly-coming portions of food while incarcerated, the physician had stated that stated that Giacomo’s stomach, given its prior history with the stomach ulcer, would require a slow and very gentle reintroduction to solid foods. While Giacomo had followed the given orders and had rested to regain his health strength, Friedrich had thrown himself into the duties of his crown, much like he had used to do it when he had been by himself only. Even though there had not been too much for the king of Prussia to really _do_ while sojourning in the lands of the duke of Württemberg, he had somehow managed to busy himself just well enough. Friedrich had send countless of letters to Potsdam and Berlin, multiple per day, adressed to his advisors, ministers and even his godforsaken wife, letters that had contained nothing but sharp remainders for them to follow his given orders as stated and for them to never, under any given circumstance, step out of the line of duty. The doctor as well as the valet had recommended that Friedrich ought to pay a visit to Giacomo once every day, and yet the king and his... possibly former lover had not seen each other for not even a handfull of times over the course of the days that had passed next. With Giacomo confined to the bed and Friedrich busying himself enough to make the days blurr together, the two men had lived what could have been described as two seperate lives, a fact that had been to neither of their benefits, for it had only forced the cutting blade of sadness and despair deeper into their hearts. Friedrich not showing up to visit him had strengthened Giacomo’s belief that he had no longer been accepted or wanted, and the lack of a request for his presence from the younger man had allowed for Friedrich’s heart to become frozen, and for it to finally burst into a million tiny pieces due to the certainty that he had managed to push the man he loved away from him for another, and final, time.

While the king of Prussia’s days had been filled with work, resulting from the duties of his title, Giacomo’s had been frightenedly empty. He had only realized how the hours had passed by when either the doctor or the chambermaid would knock at the door of his room and enter. They had been the only ones that had ever really visited him, except for the valet, who had checked on him every now and then, asking how he had been doing and if there had been anything that he could have done. It had been the chambermaid who had told Giacomo, with no bad intention behind it, that the duke of Württemberg had been able to freely roam his grounds once more, thus causing him to be highly allerted for every sound that he could have made out from within the room and flinch every time that he would be surprised by an unexpected noise. He would spend hours staring out of the window, his head tilted to one side, his eyes dull and almost non-blinking. There had been nothing that he could have done, no book that he could have read and no real conversation that he could have held, leaving him to linger in his not so bright world of thoughts for hours on end. He had gotten quiet, really quiet, and if he had only ever spoken, it had been to answer with a “Yes” or a “No”. Giacomo had not know just when it had started, but over the course of a few days he had been hand delivered more and more letters; from his father, his elder brother, from acquaintances that he had over almost all of Europe, offering him support and a place of refuge when needed. He had merely responded to the smalles percentage of them, discarding the other onto the heap beside his bed where neither the chambermaid nor the valet had dared to put them away. Giacomo had startled when there had been a knock at the door, and he had sat up a bit higher on his mountain of pillows before he had given a short answer of “Enter”. The hours of yet another day had turned late and while it must had been time for his dinner, it had not been the chambermaid that had entered the room and had came to a halt next to his bed, and instead of a tray with a streaming bowl, the person had been holding yet another stack of letters, the second one of that day. “I apologize for the disturbance, Monsieur,” Wilhelm had said while nodding once, gesturing to hand over the letters, and Giacomo had turned his face away for a second before he had downright snatched said letters from the valet and had plopped them down on the blanket that had been convering him despite the warm summer’s temperatures. It had been a source of comfort, his only one at that. The valet had since discarded almost all hope of getting a possible answer out of the younger man, so he had merely wished him a good evening before he had turned and strode away again. Giacomo had held his eyes closed, and had only turned his head around with a sigh once he had heard the door being gently closed again. While the somewhat forced solitude had weighed heavy on his shoulders, Giacomo had also appreciated it in a way, for emerging himself at court would have been impossible for him. He had shuddered when he once had imagined how it would be like, entering the salon and feeling countless pairs of eyes coming to rest of him, countless of courtiers, whores and nobleman alike, talking abour him behind their raised hands and fans. About him, the paramour of the king of Prussia who had his honor and dignity robbed by the duke of Württemberg; Giacomo would have been comfortable with stating that he rather would have died than actually live through that.

If his situation would not have been as serious as it really had been, Giacomo would have laughed at the hilariousness of it, for it had felt as if he had been damned to live through almost the same events over and over again. There had been a time, about a year ago, where he had been just as isolated as he had been right then, though when he had been so at the court of Sanssouci, it had been much more bearable. Back than he still had Friedrich, his books, and people that he had been able to converse. Philippe. Achille. Months had passed since Giacomo had last seen either of his friends and it would have been a blant lie if he would have said that he had not missed them. How he had wished to hear of them again. He had sighed and had ran both of his hands over his face, pushing a few loose strands of hair away from his face, before he had reached for the letter on the very top of the stack rather unenthusiastically. Giacomo had turned the envelope around, it had carried quite the weight, and he had lowered it when he had spotted the wax seal on the back of it. _Philippe, it had been the imprinted with his blazon._ Had he known what had happened to him, or had this been one letter than had merely been forwarded to him from Prussia? Henry might have told him, for there had been no chance that the young Prussian prince had not gotten wind of news. Giacomo had drawn in a deep breath and had swallowed hard before he had slipped a finger underneath the seal flap to pull it open, since he had not been equipped with a paper knife, and he had tried to stop himself from getting too nervous when he had pulled the folded letter paper into sight. What if Philippe, too, would end their friendship, would cut him off like Friedrich had done it because of what had happened to him? Because he had no longer been a respectable member of society? Giacomo had felt the familiar fluttering in his stomach as he had unfolded the letter, taking in another deep breath before he had allowed his eyes to move over the precisely written words. _“Giacomo! Mignonette! I cannot believe the news that have been delivered to me. Tell me, are they true? Has all of it truly happened to you? Giacomo, oh Giacomo... I am sitting here, at the desk of my study in Saint-Cloud, looking out into the gardens, while I am writing this letter to you. I have lost counts of how many I have send to Potsdam, wondering why I was not getting a reply. I believed that you and His Majesty were simply too busy, but when I have been told by one of the ambassadors at my brother’s court that you, Mignonette, have gone from presumed dead to abducted I solemly promise that I have heard my heart dropping deeply. Giacomo, if you are able to answer this letter please do so, for I am worrying constantly about your well being. There are so many rumours going around - see, not much has changed since you have left, though the palace is missing your presence - different people going around and stating that they know everything. If you want me to I will travel to Prussia as soon as I can, with the promise that I will stand at your side. You deserve it, Giacomo, and given the way that I know you, I am certain that you are able to get through this. Fight, Mignonette, fight. You have been through so much, have defied so many odds. I am eagerly awaiting word from you. Your loving friend, Philippe de Lorraine.”_

Giacomo had wiped at the stray tears that had escaped his eyes as soon as he had noticed them and had aversed his gaze to the ceiling, shaking his head due to the disbelief with which he had been faced. It could not be, right? He had continued to shake his head as he had gathered what one could have describe as courage before he had looked at the piece of paper that he still had been holding with trembling hands. _Giacomo, if you are able to answer this letter please do so, for I am worrying constantly about your well being._ “Oh Philippe,” he had whispered to himself, his breath faltering as he held the back of his hand as a cover over his lips, as if he had feared that someone could have seen that they, too, had been trembling. While a part of his mind had argued that it could have been a counterfeit letter, Giacomo had instinctively known that it had been Philippe that had written it. No one else had ever called him “Mignonette”, and it would have been highly unlikely that anyone else would know about that certain aspect of the friendship between the French and the Italian. Giacomo had read the letter once more, slowly as if he had wanted to memorise every single word that had been written in expensive ink. _I will stand at your side._ He had failed to keep the rising sob from leaving him as he had lowered back down onto the pillows, holding the letter to his chest. _Philippe._ His eyelids had been fluttering where he had kept them closed, he would have lied if he would have said that he had not been touched, and also somewhat overwhelmed, by the words he had just received. It may not would have been much for others, but for Giacomo, it had been everything. With Friedrich having discarded him a side - something that Giacomo could not blame him, for Friedrich, as the king of Prussia, must always think about his own reputation first - the fact that he had received word from Philippe had been very much special. Giacomo would have liked to write a response right away, but since his room had not been equipped with either writing utensils or a desk, he had not been able to do just that. He had folded the letter, most carefully, to put it back into the envelope, which he had then hidden underneath the bottom pillow. _To keep it safe_ , he had told himself, and he had barely finished putting it away when there had been someone yet again knocking at the door. “It is me, Monsieur. I came to bring you dinner.” Giacomo had soothened out a crease in the fabric of the blanket he had found refuge under as he had granted the chambermaid a permission to enter. The woman walked with a fast pace, closing the door behind her before she made her way over to him while humming a tune that Giacomo had not known; it had been obvious that she had been in a good mood. She had sat herself down in the chair, which had stood next to Giacomo’s bedside, and had rolled the serving trolley until it had been positioned in the free space between her and the bed. When she lifted the cover of the bowl, the room had seemed to fill almost immediately with the appetizing smell of the soup. While had been forced to eat non-solid food daily, the cooks had somehow managed to make every soup or broth taste differently so Giacomo had not complained. He would not have dared to do so even if he would have wanted to. The bowl of soup had not been the only thing that the chambermaid had brought in on the trolly, there had been another, smaller porcelaine bowl which had been filled with all kinds of summer fruits and a plate with a selection of baked treats. The chambermaid offered him a spoon, and Giacomo had only hesitated shortly before he had reached out and taken it.

While it had been utterly embarassing to have someone feed hims with a spoon like one would do with a small child, Giacomo had been greatful that the chambermaid had done so. Luise, she had been called, but he had never adressed her using her first name. He had known that Friedrich had asked her to act as a caretaker for him despite standing in the duke of Württemberg’s service, and how Giacomo had been able to assess she had done her duties with joy, something that had confused him greatly. He had never mentioned it in her presence, though. It had been her who had spoon-fed him while his body had been fighting against the fever, while his hands had been trembling too much for him to properly eat by himself. The one time he had tried to do just that he had spilled the soup all over his clothes, and it had taken a few days until he had been stable enough to try again. Giacomo had slowly sat up and had slowly moved his legs until they had been dangling over the edge of the bed, his head throbbing from the sudden change in the circulation of his blood. “Careful, Monsieur. It is still very hot,” the chambermaid had reminded him when he had dunked the spoon into the soup. A short-lived smile had moved over Giacomo’s face, but he had not spoken as he had lifted the spoon to his mouth, blowing twice before pured the hot liquid into his mouth. The warmth spread out inside of him when he had swallowed it down and despite it being of a very good taste, as always, the warm feeling that it had brought to him had been his most cherished part of it for it had made him feel like he had been someone. The unlikely pair had sat in silence as Giacomo had eaten and the chambermaid had watched him do so. “You are looking much better, Monsieur,” she had said after a good few minutes of silence had passed, smiling encouragingly at him. “Healthier, Monsieur.” Giacomo had dipped the spoon into the soup and had raised his gaze to meet hers for just the split of a second before he had averted it away again. To him, it had been clear that the chambermaid had wanted to initiate a conversation, but Giacomo had not been interested, for he had no interest in being further smothered with pretentious pity. He had been tired of it, in more than one meaning of the word. He had finished the last bit of his serving of soup before he had put the bowl back down onto the trolley and had reached inside the fruit bowl, keeping his attention firmly fixed onto the trolley, hoping that it would give a clear sign of his lack of interest in her presence. Yet, she had not faltered. “What you are doing to yourself is very unwise, Monsieur. You are harming no one but yourself through it.” Giacomo had drawn in a deep breath and had let it out slowly, stopping himself from making a cutting remark. “I am doing what I am supposed to do,” he had answered after a short pause, his voice raspy as if he had not used it in a while. The chambermaid had tilted her head in a silent question, “Is it truly what you believe, Monsieur?” “Yes.” Giacomo’s answer had followed within a second. His answer had been followed by a sudden feeling of nausea, which had made him throw the piece of fruit, that he had just taken a bite out of, back down onto the trolly with a sneer of disgust. “I wish to be alone.”

“Of course, Monsieur.” He had watched how the chambermaid had arrenged everything on the trolley to be in order, and he had also watched how she had made her way through the room. “Wait.” He had rasped his request just as the chambermaid had been about to close the door behind her, and she had haltered to turn around to face him. “Would you please bring me a piece of parchment and something to write with?” She had parted her, so as if he had wanted to retort something, but had merely nodded before she had left for good. Giacomo had continued to sit there, his legs dandling over the edge of the bed, though why, he had not really known. He simply had not wanted to lie back down and look out of the window again, but also had not dared to stand up, having feared that he may fall if he would do so. Giacomo had thankfully not needed to wait for too long until the chambermaid had returned, bringing him parchment and a quill like he had requested her to. “May I ask who you are writing a letter to, Monsieur?”, the chambermaid had asked when she he had passed the writing utensils over to him. Giacomo had carefully sat the ink pot down on the bed beside him, leaning it against his thigh in order for it to not tip over and spill its content. “A friend of mine,” had been all that he had said before he had dunked the quill in the ink, clearly signaling that he, once more, had not been eager to be clamped in a conversation. While he had kept his gaze firmly fixed on the piece or parchment, Giacomo had only done so much as wait until he had heard the door being closed again, as he would not have been able to properly write with only his thighs as an underlay, and as soon as he had heard said tale-telling sound, he had slowly pushed himself into a standing position, mindfull of the ink pot beside him. “ _Patetico, Giacomo, sei assolutamente patetico_ ,” the Italian had muttered to himself as he had walked with one hand securely planted onto the bed, and once more: if his situation had not been so serious, he would have laughed at the hilariousness of him moving around like an old man. With the room lacking either a bureau or a normal writing desk, Giacomo had been left with no other option than to walk over towards the window and use its lege as a makeshift blotting pad. He had cursed under his breath once he had reached his window, he had seriously underestimated just how strange his legs would feel being put to a use after the long time of laying flatly and Giacomo had held onto the windowstill for a good few moments to stop his legs from trembling and collapsing underneath him. The flow of the warm summer’s evening air had washed over him with all its gentle softness; he had closed his eyes and had breathed in through his nose, keeping the air in his lungs long enough for them to burn just as much as his eyes had been. He had stood like this for God knows how long before he had exhaled with a sigh, had straightened himself at least somewhat and had reached for the quill.

 _“Philippe,”_ Giacomo had began to write, his hand shamefully unsteady, _“I apologize, but I cannot even try and begin to put all of my thoughts into my very poorly written words. Thank you,” he had hesitated for a moment, unsure how to continue, “for writing. I have received your letter in Stuttgart, where I am currently living. Not by choice, as you may already know, but because the doctor deemed me not healthy enough to travel. But I am alright, Philippe. My body is healing and growing stronger. I am managing.”_ Giacomo had known that it had not sound too convincing, not even too himself, but he had not wanted to worry his friend, fearing that it could push him away. He had been fine, in a way, so it had not been a lie. Sure, he had been forced to the very bottom end of the court hierarchy and had lost everything that he had gained in the past year, but he had been fine. It could have been worse, right? Karl Eugen had no longer visited him. He should have been more greatful, especially considering that he had not been asked to leave. He had even been granted a permission to accompany the travel group back to Potsdam once the doctor would allow him to step into a carriage. _“I do not know when I will return, though I will make sure to notify you in time. With the best of greetings, your friend Giacomo Casanova.”_ Resisting the sudden urge to crumble up the disappointing piece of parchment and throw it out of the window, Giacomo had blown at the ink to dry it before he had folded the letter as good as he could have done it. He could not even close it with his seal, a fact which had only underlined his wretchedness - in his eyes, it had been. With the letter then having been written, he had wanted to send it on its way as soon as possible, on that evening, if possible. Not that he would have demanded it. Trying to keep his breathing regulated Giacomo had forced his legs into motion, while the room had been anything but grand it had felt like an immense distance until he had reached the door. Considering how rarely he had ever left this room, what had lay beyond the wooden door had been unknown territory to him, a territory filled with gossiping courtiers, a ruthless duke and... Friedrich. Giacomo had been surprised that the king of Prussia had not already left for his lands again. It would have been in his possibilities, right? Exhaling with a sigh the Italian had, once more, forced himself, that time to open the door and step outside into the corridor. It had been as empty as the last time that he had peeked into it, but he had been able to make out the sound of people walking up and down the grand escalier, their laughes and chatters resounding off the walls. Given the time of day they had most likely been on their way to the saloon to enjoy their evening, Giacomo had realized, and he had pressed his lips together into a thin line. An eternity had seemingly passed since he had last done the same thing. If there had been a positive aspect about it all, it had been the fact that he had no longer been forced to wear the same plain night dress but had been provided with normal clothes. He had taken one slow step after the other, keeping his head bowed the entire time, until he had eventually reached the top of the stairs, and it had been only then that he had realized that he had no idea where he should actually go to find a familiar face.

Giacomo had breathed in deeply as he had gathered his courage, and tried to push away his anxiety, too, as he had taken the very first of the steps. He had almost turned and bolted when a pair of noblewomen, hooked arm in arm, had appeared on the foot of the stairs and had closed in towards him. Standing frozen to the spot, one hand tightly holding onto the railing, Giacomo had waited for a biting remark or a spiteful comment to be thrown at him, but neither had came. “Good evening, Monsieur,” the women had said in unison and with smiles on their faces as they had walked past him before they had fallen back into their conversation, either not noticing or not caring that Giacomo had practically stared after them with an open-hanging mouth. They surely had not known who he was, why else would they... He had shaken his head and had turned back around, resuming his walk, the letter he had been holding in his right hand acting as somewhat of a life line. Finding a familiar face had turned out to be more difficult than Giacomo had expected it to be, while the entrance hall and adjoined corridors had been filled with many people, he had seen none of them before. He had felt as much out of place as he probably could have in that moment amongst the dozen of courtiers and guards, and Giacomo had stood rather helplessly in the shadow of a sculpture before he had disappeared into one of the nearest corridors. If he had wanted to find either the valet or the chambermaid, and withdraw back to his room again, he would eventually have to go and look for them, no matter how much it had caused his anxiety and general uneasiness to skyrocket. “Sire?” He had whirled around, obviously not caring how ridiculous his reaction may have seemed to another, but to his relief, it had only been a Prussian guards. Who he had expected it to be, Giacomo had not known. He had known, however, that it had not been normal - the way he had reacted as much as the way he had been feeling lately. Apart from the nightmares and the constant repetition of the duke’s voice in the back of his mind, of course. _Pathetic._ “Do you happen to know where His Majesty’s first valet can be found?” “I believe that he is accompanying His Majesty on walk in the gardens, Sire.” Giacomo had swallowed at the mention of Friedrich, and for a split second he had wished that it could have been him, sauntering at the king of Prussia’s side, but he had pushed that longing aside as fast as is had came up. “Would you forward this to an available messenger? I would like it to be send out as soon as possible.” He had passed the folded piece of paper over to the guard, who looked him over with an, for Giacomo, unreadable expression. “I will make sure that it will be send out, Sire.” “Thank you.” The guard had bowed his head and Giacomo’s breath had hitched in his throat as he had turned on his heels and had walked off with a fast andbsteady pace. The pair of the guard’s eyes had not been the only pair that Giacomo had felt burning on his back, which had been what he had expected. Of course they had known who he was. He had kept his gaze firmly fixed onto the ground as he had made his way back towards the entrance hall, past chattering groups of courtiers, guard-standing soldiers and hustling about workers. The palace had been buzzing with life, and Giacomo had felt like he simply had not belonged in it. He had taken the grand escalier back into the highest floor, back to the safety of “his” room, but had to stop half way, for his vision had dangerously blurred from the sheer force that the blood had been rushing in his ears, well aware that he would be lucky if his legs would continue to carry him. Laying flat for an extended amount of time surely had not benefited his endurance.

He had been so concentrated on himself, and on keeping himself steady onto his feet, that he had not noticed the large double-winged entrance door of the palace being opened and the chatters, which had filled the air so prominently, ebb down. If he would have turned around, he would have seen that it had been Friedrich and the first valet, who had seemingly returned from the stroll that the guard had said they had left for. He had not noticed how Wilhelm had leaned over to whisper something into the air next to Friedrich’s ear, and he most definitely had not noticed how Friedrich had watched him with vulnerable, wide eyes and a fallen face as he had taken the last couple of steps of the staircase.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I think that I managed to somewhat beat writer's block's ass with this chapter - for which I'm very glad, as I struggled a lot during the past few weeks. Also, this turned out to be quite long xD Sorry not sorry!
> 
> I'll be in Vienna from the 12th to the 19th and thus unable to really write on the next chapter :-) Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

The hot shudder that had moved through Friedrich’s body when he had spotted Giacomo on the grand escalier, his back turned towards Friedrich as he had taken the steps with noticable exertion, had almost been enough to make the breath freeze in the king of Prussia’s throat. He had not seen the younger man in a couple of days, and actively out of bed for an even longer amount of time, thus stumbling across him out and about without any prior notice of it had been released an overwhelming wave of emotions to break over Friedrich’s head, who had stood frozen to the spot as soon as his eyes had landed on the back of his lover. He had tried to repress the fear that he may not be able to call Giacomo just that for much longer, of course. “I did not know that he wanted to leave his bed, Sire,” the valet had said as he had leaned closer to be able to speak into the air next to the king’s ear, thus making sure that one other could catch his words. Friedrich had not really realized that Wilhelm had spoken to him, for his entire attention had been fixed on the younger man, on his Giacomo, who had stopped in his tracks despite almost having reached the top of the staircase, one hand tightly holding onto the railing while the other had been balled up into a fist at his side and despire the distance between them Friedrich had been very much able to see just how badly Giacomo had been trembling. He had forced himself to resist the urge to haste forwards and come to his aid, to steady him with an arm around his waist and help him doing what had so obviously tired him, as the privilege of doing so had not longer been one that he had owned - a fact that had torn him apart every time that he would realize it. Friedrich had swallowed hard down his constricted throat. “I am very happy to see him walking,” he had eventually managed to say with a somewhat steady voice. “It does mean that he is building up his strength, that he is getting better, does it not?” Wilhelm had looked at his king with open reassurance in his eyes as he had nodded, well aware how much his king had needed to be reassured. There had been no need for His Majesty to speak it out directly, Wilhelm had spend enough time at his king’s side to read even the smallest of signals that His Majesty would send out, mostly unwittingly. “Yes, Sire. I believe so too.” The king of Prussia and his first valet had lingered on the same spot for a few moments, mostly due to Friedrich’s inability to look at anything else but the empty spot where Giacomo had stood before the younger had disappeared out of his sight.

“Your Majesty.” Friedrich had just set foot onto the first step of the staircase when he had been adressed by one of his own guards that had neared in on him out of nowhere, really, with a hand raised to his temple in an appropriate salutation. “Yes.” Friedrich’s eyes had moved to the folded piece of paper that the guard had held up between to fingers, much like one would do with a gamecard. “I thought that Your Majesty would be interested in knowing that Monsieur Casanova had seeked me in order to get a letter of his delivered.” The king of Prussia had exchanged a look with his valet before he had nodded once, allowing the guard to continue his report of duty. “It is to be send to France, Your Majesty.” He had sensed where the guard had been pointing at, figuratively so, as it had, for generations, been a normal thing for anyone to ask for permission before doing something for a person that stood close to the monarch, and the guard’s simple report had, once more, made it so very clear to Friedrich just what he had been on the verge of losing because of his own decisions, his own mistakes. “Then it shall be send out according to his wishes,” Friedrich had said after a moment of consideration, straightening his spine to at least give the impression that there had been nothing out of the ordinary, successfully managing to cover up the hurt that had been burning in his chest. “Make sure that it will be done soon.” “Of course, Your Majesty,” the guard had answered, nodding before turning on his heels and striding away, most likely to return to his post of duty, and Friedrich’s entire posture had slumped as soon as the guard had been out of sight. They had not even set out onto their journey back to Potsdam, back home, and their situation had already been so heartbreaking and desperate, with an imaginary chasm dividing the pair of lovers, that Friedrich had since lost all of the anticipation of returning home. Sure, he would not be leaving without Giacomo, as it had solidified that the Italian would indeed accompany him to Prussia, but it had not meant that he would be going home with him. It had not been the first time that Friedrich had been parted from Giacomo, be it spartially seperated or not, after all they had gone through together, but that experience had done nothing to ease the hurt that the entire situation had brought to Friedrich. He had lived from day to day, from night to night, hyperaware of Giacomo being so close and yet so far away from him, out of his reach, and it had not helped that he had no one else to blame for it but himself. “Sire? Is everything alright?” Friedrich had not noticed how he had stared into emtpy space in absolute silence for a good few moments, and once he had realized just that, he had turned his face away from his valet as he had tried to regain control of his composure, his lips pressed together into a thin line. He had not answered to Wilhelm before he had turned his whole body around, rather abruptly, and had started to take the stairs, Wilhelm, self-evidently, right there behind him.

“Sire?” Friedrich had shrugged off his valet’s repetative attempt of getting an answer from him with a mere wave of his hand as he had climbed the stairs with an invisible force driving him, a force that had made him want to seek Giacomo’s presence even though he had very much known how foolish it had been for him to do so. It had been an inner conflict almost, between the facts of which Friedrich had been certain, of that which he knew, and between his wishes, his desires, or even his blind hope. Maybe he simply had not wanted to admit it to himself that he had brought so much distaster into Giacomo’s life, and that his latest mistake had been the drop that had caused the barrel to overflow. That he had taken the stair with a record-worthy speed, earning him more than one curious or judging look from the passing courtians Friedrich had not noticed, but even if he would have done so, he surely would not have cared. Not when there had been so many things going on in him, so many thoughts running in his mind and so much hurt burning in his chest. It would have been a lie if he would have said that he had not known how much the man he loved had been suffering even then; oh, Friedrich had not even been able to really sit down and think about what exactly it had been that the duke of Württemberg and the French had done to Giacomo in the very detail, and even though a good week has passed and the Italian’s body had began to heal fully, the valet as well as the chambermaid, which had been assigned to Giacomo’s service, had brought reports of nightmares, fits of cries and entire days where Giacomo would do nothing but lie almost unmoving on the bed and stare out of the window to the king of Prussia. Friedrich had _known_ that his lover had been hurting, and it would break his heart over and over again every time that he would be reminded of it. Maybe it had been a punishment for his mistakes, or maybe fate had decided to show him just what he once had and what he had been on the very verge of losing; he had not known, but the pain of his aching heart had been real, and it alone had been enough to make Friedrich fear of having to continue living in that manner. Knowing that his Giacomo, the gentle soul that he loved with his entire being, had been so close and yet out of his reach, had drove him crazy, but he never would have dreamed of doing so much as demanding to be allowed in the younger man’s presence. It had been Giacomo’s right to say that his trust in Friedrich had been damaged to such an extend that he had no longer felt comfort in his touches or mere presence, and Friedrich had to accept that, not matter how much worse it had made his own situation. He had not mattered in regards to Giacomo. The king of Prussia had came only somewhat to his senses when he, followed by his first valet, had already taken the turn into the corridor that would bring him to the part of the palace where the Italian had been living ever since. He had needed to see him, so as if his entire life, his entire existence had been based upon that single aspect - seeing him. Friedrich had not dared to think or dream of more, of feeling Giacomo’s fingers slide against his when he would hold his hand, of gathering the younger man into his arms to proctect him from those that seek to harm him.

He had really made it to the room, and he had even already raised his hand to knock at the door when he had heard something that had delivered an invisible punch to his stomach, hard enough to force the air out of his lungs. It had been faint and one easily could have missed it if deciding to hear over it, but it had been the clear sound of cries being muffled by a pillow that Friedrich had been met with. Giacomo had been crying, and his cries had carried such despair and pain that the Prussian had felt his own eyes beginning to fill up. Out of all the different cries that he had been lucky, or damned, to hear, the one which he had been hearing right then had only been overdone by the events of his birthday, where it had been his hands that had teared those cries out of Giacomo. “I am greatly worried, Sire. Is everything alright?” Wilhelm’s question had pulled Friedrich out of his state of being frozen, with his hand still raised, ready to knock at any given moment, and he had exhaled the last bit of breath that he had in him with a gasp, taking a few hasted steps backwards before he had turned to look at his valet. “Y-Yes, yes,” Friedrich had brought out, stumbling over his words in a way which he had known had not been very convincing. While the cries, which had came emerging from within the room, had been rather quiet, their volume had seemed to double in his ear. It had been all that he had been hearing, everything that he had thought about - Giacomo crying behind that godforsaken door which had devided them, though the door had only acted as so much as a manifestation of what had truly been standing in between them. “There is nothing wrong, Wilhelm. I would appreciate it if you would stop worrying about me.” Friedrich had looked at the door, almost longingly, before he had steered towards the chair that he had sad in countless of times during their involuntary stay, and Wilhelm had been sure that he had been able to see an imprint of His Majesty’s backside in the red velvet. Fitting for his duty as the king’s valet, Wilhelm had stood by as Friedrich had hidden his face behind his face and had sat, with his elbows plastered onto his thighs, in absolute silence. Wilhelm had not even been sure if he had moved at all, though if there had been a definite movement, it had been the one of his trembling shoulders. While he had only been a witness of it all as a bystander, Wilhelm would have lied if he would have said that he had not been affected by the entire situation, too. Since he had acted as somewhat of a pivot point between the unfortunate pair, he had seen the ups and downs on both sides, had seen how much they both had suffered because of something that neither of them had been responsible for. He had known that His Majesty had blamed himself for what the duke of Württemberg had done to the Monsieur, and Wilhelm had also known that it would have been in vain to try and show him that his view had been twisted by his own mindset to remorse and despair. It had made the valet feel as if he had been unable to fullfill his duty, which, in a way, he truly had not been able to do just that. While he had consoled His Majesty many times, countless, even, when he had been threatened to be burried under the weight of the grief over Lieutenant von Katte’s death, but Wilhelm had been clueless as for how he could be of aid in regards to Monsieur Casanova.

After all the years that he had spend under the title of a First Valet in the service of the king or Prussia, Wilhelm still had not grown used to see the king, who usually allowed nothing to come close to him and touch his person, who was known, through all of Europe, as a distant and untouchable monarch, one who had been hardened through endless abuse of the notorious and feared Friedrich Wilhelm, show his emotions towards another person so openly. He had been there, over twenty years, standing at His Majesty’s side through the majority as the bearer of the Prussian crown; back when he had still slept on a canapé in the king’s sleeping chamber he had been woken up countless of times from the Sire screaming in his nightmare haunted sleep. He had been a witness to the struggle, which had dragged on for over thirty years and still had not been finished, the struggle whether or not the king would be courageous enough to visit Lieutenant von Katte’s last resting place in Wüst. Wilhelm had known how much his king had struggled in his life, and how much his body would always be affected if the darkness in his mind would grow too big. He and His Majesty had been both ageing, there had been no use in denying that, and seeing the way the monarch’s health had seemed to deteriorate the longer the strain in the relationship between him and the Monsieur had continued to exist. If Wilhelm would not have known both sides, he surely would have blamed the Italian for playing with the king’s feelings. As part of his duty, of course. But since he had heard what the duke of Würtemberg, and his accomplice, the French nobleman, had forced him to go through, since he had _seen_ the remnants of the duke’s brutalities that had been left behind, there just could not be a way on God’s good earth that Wilhelm would have found a possibility that would end with Monsieur Casanova being the one on the blaming end. The Italian had been the true victim in the entire series of events, before the blame that it might have brought onto the Prussian crown and even before His Majesty’s personal feelings, but neither the Monsieur nor the Sire had been to blame for what had happened. While one could have argued that the king had known of the risks and tensions which had been brought up with his decision to not support the duke of Württemberg in his warfare as well of the duke’s desire to launch an attack of revenge against him and the crown of Prussia, in the end, it had been solely the duke’s and the French’s fault that it had happened. It had been a real shame that neither the Monsieur not His Majesty had been able to see past their hurt to realize that they were not to blame - oh, Wilhelm had very much known that they had not blamed each other, no, they had each burdened the entire weight of what had happened onto their shoulders to prevent the other from being forced to carry it, which would have been a selfless act if it had not been so obviously false. While the danger, or the prospect of the Monsieur cutting ties with His Majesty and returning to his home country had been put aside, Wilhelm had still found himself to be worried, even more so as he had stood in silence, with his hands loosely held behind his back in his signature posture, and had watched by how the king or Prussia had tried to keep his façade from crumbling right there in the public’s eye.

Friedrich had kept his face hidden even long after he had successfully managed to stop the tears, which had risen into his eyes when he had heard the first of Giacomo’s cries emerging through to him; not because the light in the corridor had been especially bright, which would have been impossible, considering how late the day had turned, but because he had been ashamed. He had been ashamed to be so unstable in front of Wilhelm, to not even be able to jump over his own shadow and talk to Giacomo. God, he had not even managed to knock. _Pathetic, utterly pathetic Fritz_ , he had cursed at himself as he had very well grown aware of how his valet’s eyes had been resting on him. Oh, Wilhelm had the right to see him as what he had truly been in that moment - a pathetic excuse of a king, and an even poorer excuse of a man. Friedrich had not known whether Giacomo’s cries had ebbed down or not, for he had been sitting at the opposite wall and thus too far away to have been able to make them out. He had hoped that the younger had no longer been crying, though, and if it would not have been him that would have wished or prayed for it, it would have been his aching heart. His love for the younger had not lessened over the course of the past days, in fact, if it would have been possible Friedrich would have believed it to have doubled in amount. He truly had not been able to live without him, while having to sleep during the tormenting weeks of not knowing what had happened to his Giacomo had been unbearable, Friedrich had found himself even less able to do so when the man he loved had been so close, but hurting and suffering without him being able to help, and he had not even wanted to do so much as think about how they would live on in Sanssouci, together, yes, but apart at the same time. At least he would be able to see him, Friedrich had to audibly snort when that thought had crossed his mind, though sobering instantly when another thought had follwed the first: there had been a time in his life, not too long ago, when Giacomo had left for France, that he had wished for him to be able to do just that. The snort that he had let out, however, had told the valet that Friedrich had not, as Wilhelm had suspected, shut down and had retreated to the darker corners of his mind. “Sire -” “Do not ask me if I am alright,” Friedrich had cut his valet off before the other had a chance to finish his sentence, making a repellent wave with his hand. “I did tell you that I would appreciate it if you would stop,” he had snarled a part of his sentence, the corners of his mouth pulling down as he had done so. He had not wanted to snarl per se, but the more compassion he would get the worse he would feel, for Giacomo would have been so much more in need for it. “Please, Wilhelm. Stop.” Friedrich had swallowed and shaken his head slowly, most likely a though of him that had stayed hidden from the valet. “Of course, Sire.” Wilhelm had bowed further down than he usually would have, to show that he had wanted to apologize for his misconduct, “I apologize,” keeping his head low as he had awaited an answer from his king. Friedrich had sighed and had leaned further back into the chair that he had been sitting in, signaling with another movement of his hand that he had heard and acknowledged the valet’s words.

The two men had fallen into silence after that once more, with Wilhelm not wanting to infuriate the king of Prussia any further and with Friedrich at a loss for words himself. Sure, there could have been more useful things that Friedrich could have done with his time than to sit there, not being useful to either his lover or his country, but he simply had not found the will to force himself to stand up and walk away. Not that he had really tried to, though. Considering the other possible options, he had been pretty much happy that he had been able to at least get as close as he could have been, with merely a few meters deviding them. Oh, he had missed the younger a lot, even more so then that he had been not allowed near him. God, Friedrich had loved him so much and to not be able to touch him, or to even have one of those meaningless conversations that they had used to have during their late night walks in the garden. Compared to his current life, those times had been heavenly. How Friedrich had wished that he could have them back... “I am surprised to see Your Majesty here.” Everyone of the three men in the corridor had known that the doctor’s greeting had rather been a set phrase than an honest expression, for the physician would have needed to be a blind man in order to have never seen the king of Prussia slumped in always the same chair. “Sire.” The doctor had greeted the valet with a simple nod before he had turned back towards Friedrich. “I would like to check on the Monsieur if Your Majesty agrees -” “Of course I do,” Friedrich had answered before the doctor had even finished. He would have been damned if he would ever stop the medic from taking care of the most precious person that had ever stepped into his life. The corners of the doctor’s mouth had turned up into a honest smile. “Alright, I will make sure to update Your Majesty afterwards.” “Thank you.” The doctor had nodded, bowed his head and had heaved his medical bag up higher before he had turned, had done what Friedrich had been too craven to do - knocking at the door of Giacomo’s sickroom - and had disappeared inside. “I hope that he will be able to travel soon,” Friedrich had said with a low, almost whispering voice as he had raised onto his feet and had limped over to inspect one of the life-sized portraits that had hung on the wall, though Wilhelm’s guess of him simply doing it so that he had something do to at all had been right. “I cannot bear to stay here for much longer, Wilhelm.” The valet had nodded slowly while he had walked across the corridor to came to stand next to his king’s side. “I am sure that you will not have to wait for much longer, Sire. The Monsieur seems to be steadily growing stronger.” This time, it had been Friedrich who had nodded. “Yes, but I shall wait until the doctor agrees that he is stable enough. I do not want a prematurely departure to cause any further harm to him.” “Of course, Sire. I did not think that you would make a choice that would possibly harm the Monsieur.” “Never again.” Two simple words that had carried more meaning that an entire speech of the king of Prussia could have contained. Never again. He would never, ever risk what he had so easily if only... Yes, if only he would not lose it for good this time. Friedrich had not known how long he and Wilhelm had stood in the corridor, in absolute silence, until the door had been, once more, opened and the doctor had emerged into sight.

“That was rather fast,” the valet had expressed as he had moved to stand behind the king of Prussia, who had turned around to face the doctor the second that he had heard the door being opened. “And? How is he?”, Friedrich had asked, trying not to sound too desperate for news about his Giacomo but if he would have been honest, he would have admitted that he would not have cared even if he would have sounded embarrasingly needy, for they had all probably already known. He had not tried to hide it in the first place, had he. The doctor had nodded even before he had answered, “In regards to my service I am comfortable to say that the Monsieur does not require it any longer.” Wilhelm had looked at His Majesty out of the corner of his eyes when he had heard the audible sigh of relief that Friedrich had let out at the doctor’s words. “Oh, oh thank God,” Friedrich had whispered, more to himself, and his shoulders had felt as if they had been relieved from a ton of weight. _He would be alright._ “The Monsieur is ready to travel, Your Majesty. The wound has healed to satisfaction, and with the fever gone there should not be any risk for his health.” The king of Prussia had nodded and when he had turned his head to look at his valet, Wilhelm had been just as relieved to see a small, but certain, smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “I shall arrange everything for the departure, then. Thank you for your service.” “It was a great honor, Your Majesty,” the doctor had bowed deeply before he had bid his goodbye to Friedrich and Wilhelm and had walked off; Friedrich had been sure that he had never been so glad to see everyone walking away from him. He truly could no longer wait to leave this place, and the memories that had been attached to it, behind for good. “Sire?” “Yes.” Wilhelm had moved until he had been facing his king, “May I offer you a piece of advice, Sire?” Friedrich’s brows had pulled together, something inside of him alarmed by the manner the valet had asked his question, and he had merely nodded, his tongue suddenly not very willing to obey his head, to signal that he had been open for the valet’s advice. “I believe that you ought to talk to the Monsieur before you set out to plan the departure, Sire. It might overwhelm him if you were to announce to him, out of the blue, that he is supposed to set out with you, Sire.” Wilhelm’s words had hit Friedrich to his core, despite the fact that he had tried to hinder them from just that - because Wilhelm had been right. Friedrich had, deep down, already known that he would need to speak with him, and it would have been a lie if he would have said that he had not been scared by the prospect of it. “You are right, Wilhelm. It is inevitable.” “Inevitable? Sire, I apologize if I happen to be impertinent but is there even a reason as for why you appear to not be willing to speak to the Monsieur -” Wilhelm should have watched his words, for he had rarely seen the color of the king of Prussia’s face change from regular to stark red so quickly. “I am more than willing, do you understand? I would give everything I have, _everything_ to be able to simply walk into there and start a conversation like it would be normal to do, to have him tolerate me again. so for you to suggest that I am not _willing_ to talk to him is -” “I apologize, Sire -” “I will not hear it!” Friedrich’s outburst had been due to the combination of exhaustion, grief and despair that he had suffered under rather than the words of his valet, and he had known it. “Leave me alone! Right now!” He had flinched from the sound of his own voice echoing off the walls, and watched, heavily breathing, how his valet had strode away without saying another word. Wilhelm had wisely decided against retorting anything, for he had known that once the king would be infuriated, his anger would not just stand in the shadow of that of the late Friedrich Wilhelm.

Friedrich had taken a few steps until he had sacked down against the wall, clutching his walking cane in both of his trembling hands and blinking hard to stop his eyes from filling up. He had failed to prevent a single tear from slipping out, however, when he had turned his head and had looked at the door of the sickroom almost longingly. What he had said had been no lie, he had been well aware that he would eventually have to approach Giacomo. He had also known that Giacomo would most likely not want to see, let alone speak to him. It had been a muddled situation which had very well killed him slowly; he never would have blamed the man he loved for it, though. _It would be the best to get it over with fast_ , the king of Prussia had tried to encourage himself as he had cleared his throat, straightened his posture and had fixed a stray curl of his wig behind his ear. He had held his breath as he had knocked at the door, just once and with much less strength than he usually had done it, probably because he, after all, had wished that Giacomo would not hear, and he had almost believed his wish to be granted when he had became hyperaware of the few seconds that had passed by without a response from within the room. “Who is it?” Giacomo’s voice had been gentle but carrying the unmistakable roughness from crying and Friedrich had felt his heart clench. _God, he loved him so much._ “It is... me, Giacomo. Friedrich.” Just as he had expected, the following seconds had lacked an answer from the Italian. Friedrich had gently laid his palm against the wood of the door, almost as if he had been able to connect with Giacomo, or reach him, through it, and his chin had lowered until it had nearly touched his chest as the hope of being given an answer had seeped away to be replaced with the cold realization of loss, grief and remorse. Then, just as he had been about to turn away and walk off, he had heard it. “You may enter.” The younger man’s voice had dropped even lower, closer towards an inaudible whisper that Friedrich easily could have missed if he only would have walked a meter, and the king of Prussia had stood frozen on the spot for a couple of moments until he had gathered the courage to move. He had reached for the door knob, pushed it down and opened the door almost ridiculously slowly until it, eventually, swung open completely. There he had been, his Giacomo. Seated on the edge of the bed, legs dangling over it, with the front of his blouse still unbuttoned and exposing his chest, not having rebuttoned it after the doctor had left him. He clearly had not expected to be visited. Friedrich had known that he had been staring at him, and Giacomo had soon realized it, too, for he had only met the older man’s gaze before he had turned his head away, heat collecting in his face. Once he had noticed that his mouth had been opened just as widely as his eyes had been, Friedrich had snapped it close within an instand, pressing his lips together tightly instead. Oh, how he would have liked to sit down next to him to hold him, or just his hands, but those longings had been pushed back when he had seen how Giacomo had squeezed his folded hands. Your fault. Unsure about how he should proceed, Friedrich had walked into the room to close the door behind him, for anyone walking by could have been a witness to their interaction.

“I...” His voice had failed before he had even brought out the first hald of the sentence, and he had cleared his throat in order to get it to work again. That it had quavered had been no surprise, he had not seen or talked to Giacomo in days and it had not just grazed him, no, it had hit him with its entire force. “The doctor said that you have healed.” “I know,” Giacomo had whispered an answer which had been a surprise as Friedrich had not expected him to react at all. “He also said that you are now able to travel - “ “I know that, too. I know.” The younger man had still not faced him, had still looked out of the window instead of him and given the way that he had still been squeezing his hands together, it had been very clear that he had been struggling, though with what exactly, Friedrich had not known. “I merely wanted to let you know that I will prepare... for us to go home.” _“For us to go home.”_ Those words had slipped out of him before he really had considered them, and he could have slapped himself for it, even more so when he had seen how Giacomo had raised himself onto his feet, despite being very much unstable on them, and had turned around to face him - with a pale face utterly fallen, and eyes full of unshed tears. Neither Friedrich nor Giacomo had spoken, though the king of Prussia had taken one, then another few steps into the other man’s direction when he spotted how Giacomo’s legs had been trembling from the strain of keeping him upright. “Giacomo...” He had extended an arm to touch him, though froze when Giacomo had taken a few frantic steps backwards, only being able to move when he had seen, in what could have been slow motion, how the tremble in Giacomo’s legs had increased and had eventually caused them to give in. Friedrich had stepped forward to catch him by the arm, but Giacomo’s knees had already crashed on the floor before he could have done so. He had gasped and had swiftly knelt down, not caring how the hard wood of the floor had worsened the ache in his knee. Giacomo had shifted his position to move towards the bed on all fours, a sight that Friedrich had known he would never be able to forget and one that he had wished he had never seen. Seeing how weak the younger was, despite having healed as good as completely, had only widened the wound in his heart. “Let me help you, Giacomo,” Friedrich had spoken, his voice low and gentle, as he had been forced to watch how Giacomo had tried to pull himself up by holding onto the mattress. His arms, however, had been to weak to do just that. Friedrich had cursed under his breath, the adrenalin kicking in as he had pushed himself back onto his feet and had walked over towards the bed to sit down on its edge. “Giacomo...” He had reached out and taken Giacomo by the upper arm to pull him up; it had been what he had wanted to do, though, since he once more froze by the look that he ha dreceived from the younger. While Friedrich had expected Giacomo’s voice be hard from rejection and distain, it had only been rough and at a breaking point from exposed pain as he had half whispered, half sobbed, “Why are you doing this?” He had felt a wave of coldness flush over him, a wave of shame and embarassment, and Friedrich removed his hand from Giacomo’s arm even though he really had not wanted to do it. “Why?” Giacomo had closed his eyes before the last bit of his composure had crumbled and he had sanken back down onto the floor, his hand letting go of the mattress to hide his face in them.

Both Friedrich’s mind and heart had been racing as he had tried to come up with an answer to Giacomo’s sobbed questions, but he had failed at doing so when he had looked down at the younger man, who had been no more than a crying, broken shadow of the person that he had used to be. Instead of a real answer, Friedrich had only came up up with a pitiful excuse. “I... merely want to help you into bed, I - I will leave as soon as you are no longer on the floor.” His own voice had grown silent and rough, and he truly had to fight to keep control over himself as he had notived how Giacomo had pressed one of his hands over his mouth, clearly trying to keep his sobs from being heard. Friedrich had to look away, unable to stand being confronted with the results of his mistakes any longer. He had known beforehand that his presence would not be wanted, but it hurt even more than he had expected it to. “For me,” Giacomo had eventually said through his cries, his voice hitching from the force of them. “Why are you - doing this for me?” Friedrich had breathing in, abruptly and through his nose, and his mouth had opened, ready to answer, when he had turned his face back towards Giacomo. He had failed to bring a sound out, however, and the king of Prussia had closed and opened his mouth for a few times as he had looked down at the younger man with a face just as blank as his mind. He surely must had understood it wrongly, for there had been no way that Giacomo could have meant it in the way that Friedrich had understood it. _Why is he doing it for him? For him? What is he doing for him?_  His train of thoughts had came to a halt when Giacomo had spoken again, his voice breaking even more frequently. “My ho-onor has been taken from me and - and yet you are...” Giacomo had trailed off after his voice had been cut by a sob, and when he had wrapped his arms around his middle to hold himself, Friedrich had very well heard the shards of his broken heart coming falling into the pit of his stomach. _He blames himself_ , the Prussian had realized. Giacomo had blamed himself instead of Friedrich, and the latter had came to the bone-chilling realization, as he had sat there, on the edge of the bed, witnessing a complete breakdown of the man that he loved like no other in his life, that the way Giacomo had frozen up at his touches and had turned down every attempt of conversation had been due to one fact - he had blamed himself. Friedrich had not been able to wrap his head around the question of _how_ Giacomo had managed to do it, but he had suspected, or known, in the back of his mind, that it had been due to the violence that Karl Eugen had forced onto Giacomo. He had not wished that Giacomo would blame him per se, of course not, but it would have been the right thing to do. Friedrich had been at fault, no one could have convinced him otherwise. He had known it and the people around him, be it the first valet or an involved military man, had known so, too. But for Giacomo to blame himself for something that had happened to him, for something that he could have done the least against had been absolutely heartbreaking.

Friedrich had shaken his head as he had watched how Giacomo had since began to rock himself, his arms still tightly wrapped around himself, his eyes squeezed shut as tears freed themselves out of them and had rolled down his his pale face. He had not thought that his heart could have ached any more, and he had been so wrong about that. “Sanssouci.” It should have felt wrong, for him to adress the younger man with the nickname that had been so connected with so many dear memories for the both of them, but Friedrich had not really thought about it beforehand. He had not been able to think at all, if he had been honest, as he had been utterly overwhelmed by the way that the situation had unfolded in front of his eyes, but when Giacomo had not reacted, he had been unsure what to do. Friedrich had hesitated to touch him, considering how he had reacted to it. _You have no right to touch him_ , the voice in the back of his mind had reminded him, so instead of putting his hand on Giacomo’s shoulder like he had wanted to, he had merely extended his arm and had offered his hand to be taken. Unbeknownst to both men, that simple gesture had acted as some sort of a turning point for both of their lives. Would Giacomo realize that Friedrich had not wanted to discard him, and that he had not only been there because he had believed that he had to put up an act of pity? And if the younger would manage to take the offered hand, would Friedrich allow the realization that Giacomo had not blamed to sink into him? Would they be able to put the broken pieces of their love back together? Giacomo had swallowed before he had opened his eyes again, almost carefully slow, as if he had been unsure about what he would be faced with, and his breath had catched in his throat when his gaze had fallen onto the offered hand. _He surely could not... He could not be serious..._ But Friedrich had not pulled his hand away, even when Giacomo had openly stared at it for a good few long moments; he had merely continued to offer his hand, and his own eyes had filled up with tears when Giacomo, after what had felt like an eternity, had all so slowly raised a trembling hand of his and had laid it into Friedrich’s open palm. Friedrich had not noticed that he had held his breath before the tips of Giacomo’s fingers had touched his own, for he had only then drawn in a much needed intake of air, and quite audibly through his mouth at that. Their fingers had not slid against each other, as Giacomo had only put his hand into Friedrich’s, and yet Friedrich had felt a buzz moving through his arm and his entire body. It had been too long since they had touched liked this. A heartbreaking realization, which had caused the Prussian’s heart to race faster, especially when Giacomo had moved his fingers; slightly, but it had made it clear to Friedrich that he had no second thought of being touched by him. For just the split of a second he had feared that it may had only been a dream, but when he had shifted his fingers to close them around Giacomo’s hand, barely so, he had _felt_ it. “Would it... be alright for me to help you up?” He had spoken slow and with a low voice, not wanting to disturb the moment between them by raising it any higher. Giacomo had nodded, he had not trusted his voice enough to speak and he also had not dared to look up from where his eyes had still glued to his hand lying in Friedrich’s.

“Good, alright.” Friedrich had nodded too, even though the other had not been able to see it and if he had done so mainly to give himself the needed courage, it would have been no surprise for him. He had moved over on the bed so that there had been more space beside him before he had leaned down and had taken a hold of Giacomo’s upper arm with one hand, the other not letting go of the younger man’s hand. Applying just the slightest of pull, Friedrich had encouraged Giacomo to move. “Come, Giacomo, you ought not to be on the floor for longer. It is uncomfortable.” He had waited, and the ghost of a smile had flashed over his face when Giacomo had indeed raised onto his knees. “Easy, be careful,” Friedrich had whispered, offering support as the younger man as he had heaved himself onto his feet and offering an open and warm smile once Giacomo had indeed stood on his feet, albeit not very steadily. He had kept his hold on Giacomo’s arm and hand until the younger had slowy lowered himself onto the edge of the bed beside him, breathing heavily from the exhaustion that little bit of movement had caused him and Friedrich, for a short moment, had doubted if the doctor had been right with his assessment of Giacomo’s condition. “Are you unwell?”, he thus had asked, eyeing him from the side. Friedrich had known that it would have been too much to ask from Giacomo to look at him, considering with all that had already happened, but it still had been painful to see how the man he loved had obviously forced himself to keep his gaze casted downward. “No,” the Italian had answered after a moment of silence, “I am not.” Friedrich had nodded, and the silence that had followed their short interaction had weighed heavily on the king of Prussia’s shoulder, for the atmosphere between them had been so different, so... estranged that it would have broken his heart if it had not been shattered already, possibly beyond repair. “Giacomo?” He had swallowed when he had seen how Giacomo had flinched when he had adressed him directly. The younger had not answered, but since he had turned his head a bit more towards Friedrich, his gaze firmly forced away from him still, the elder had taken it as a permission to speak on. He had hesitated after already opening his mouth, for he had not known if it had been the right time to ask the question which had been on his mind like no other. You have to know it. “I know that it is a hard time for you but I -” he had cleared his throat, “my heart needs to know if you still want to be with me.” When Friedrich had dared to look at Giacomo again, he had swallowed hard at the single tear that he had spotted rolling down the younger man’s face. “Giacomo...” “Of course I want to be with you,” Giacomo had whispered back in a broken tone, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand leaving Friedrich no longer to be able to keep his own tears at bay. He gave in to them in silence, not bothering to wipe them away; hee had not cared if they would be seen. “Giacomo, Sanssouci,” Friedrich had said with an equally low tone, his voice cracking from the harbinger of a building-up sob, “look at me, please look at me.” Hurt had been radiating from the both of them, hurt that could have split them apart but had failed at doing so because Giacomo had lifted his head and had slowly turned it to face Friedrich. It had cost him the bit of courage that he had, but Giacomo had sensed that it had been the right thing for him to do.

He had looked at Friedrich, had really looked him in the eyes after weeks of being frightened into not doing so. Karl Eugen had forced him to meet his gaze many times, mostly when the duke had raped him, leaving Giacomo absolutery terrified of eye contact, but then there had been Friedrich. _Friedrich Friedrich Friedrich_ , who had came into his room after Giacomo had heard him yell at his valet in the corridor, Friedrich, who had asked if he wanted to still be with him. Friedrich, the king of Prussia, had asked him, Giacomo Casanova, a man robbed of his honor, if he had wanted to be with him. The question had left him with a racing heart and burning eyes, unable to come up with a string of sense-making thoughts. He had expected to be met with rejection, much like would have deserved it considerings the things that had been done to him, but Friedrich had been so utterly gentle with him that it had clutched at Giacomo’s heart with a painful hold. _Friedrich._ “Giacomo, Sanssouci, please look at me.” That Friedrich had been crying too had been something that had been equally unexpected to Giacomo as any other part of this whole turn of event had been, and when Friedrich had slowly opened his arms, offering a hug while smiling with tears still falling freely, Giacomo had not longer been able to hold himself back. Friedrich had nearly gotten knocked over from the force that the younger man had landed against his chest with; the Prussian had only been able to react when he had felt a pair of trembling arms wrapping around his middle and hands grasping at the back of his waistcoat. _Giacomo._ He had let out a strangled gasp when he had closed his arms securely around Giacomo, tightening his hold when the younger had done so, too, and Friedrich had squeezed his eyes when he had realized that he had truly been holding the man he loved in his arms again. “Oh Giacomo,” Friedrich had whispered, “I was so scared.” The king of Prussia had moved one hand up curve of Giacomo’s spine to cup it against the back of his head, driving his fingers into the familiar softness of the blond hair, so very much aware of how much time had passed since he had last done just that, since he had last been allowed to hold him in that exact manner. It had been too long, too much precious time had been lost for the both of them and Friedrich had not been able to fathom that he had really been holding him; despite the fact that the younger had been trembling and that his waistcoat and blouse had been soaked by tears that should not have been there, Friedrich could not have wished for anything more. Him and Giacomo, Giacomo and him, Giacomo’s face then hidden in the crook of Friedrich’s neck as the younger had let out the pain of what had happened to him through deep sobs while Friedrich had held him tightly. “I am so scared of losing you, I... I do not know how to be without you. My Sanssouci...” Giacomo had not answered, not verbally at least, but the fact that he had slowly turned his face even a bit more against Friedrich’s neck had been enough of an answer. Friedrich had known that they both had not been okay, with Giacomo having been a lot more damaged than him, but in that moment, he had known that there had been hope for them still. He could have slapped himself for not coming sooner, for not seeing that instead of Giacomo blaming him, the younger had only blamed himself; there had been so many things that he should have done differently.

How long they had continued to sit there, only God had known. Friedrich had ran the fingers of one hand through Giacomo’s hair in small and continuous circles while moving the other over Giacomo’s back, simply having needed to feel him and his presence until the younger man had became a suspiciously heavy weight against in his arm. “Giacomo?” No answer had followed and just when Friedrich had became scared of Giacomo having passed out, a soft snore had hit his ear, making the king of Prussia let out a sound that had stood somewhere between a choked sob and a laugh. He had fallen asleep in his arms, leaned against and still holding onto him with a weak hold. Friedrich had stayed still for a few moments, listening to Giacomo’s deep and regular breathing as he had tried to come up with a way in which he could lay the other down without waking him up. He had carefully pulled his arms back from around Giacomo, had slipped them between him and the younger and had, just as carefully, pushed him away to grasp him by the shoulders. Giacomo must had been utterly out of it, for his head had merely lolled a bit as Friedrich had straightened him up, though he had groaned awake when he had been laid down flatly. “Fri-rich?”, Giacomo had brought out, rubbing at his eyes with both balled-up fists and the king of Prussia had smiled at the slurred question, brushing a strand of hair away from Giacomo’s forehead as he had looked down at him in admiration. “I apologize, I did not mean to wake you up.” The Italian’s eyes had widened in an instant, almost as if he had not expected for Friedrich to be there, and a hand of his had shot out to grab Friedrich’s arm. “Do not leave me, do not -” “Sh, stop,” Friedrich had cut Giacomo’s hasted plea of with a click of his tongue, laying his hand on top of the younger’s and squeezing it affectionally, “I will never leave you alone again.” Wide eyes had roamed over him as if they had searched for a sign that his words could have been a lie, but had returned to be heavy-lidded when his hand had been squeezed once more. “It is a promise,” Friedrich had whispered, and he had continued to sit on the edge of the bed until Giacomo’s breathing had evened out, holding his lover’s hand. If it would have been possible, he never would have let go of it at all. 

Friedrich, in all of his honesty, had not really been able to wrap his head around what had happened that evening for the following few days While the fear of it having been nothing but a play of his imagination had disappeared rather fast, the king of Prussia had then been left in a state of utter bliss, especially when he had visited Giacomo the morning after their rekindling. He had cried when he had sat there, on the edge of Giacomo’s bed, holding Giacomo’s hand, but he had not needed to be ashamed of his tears. No eye had stayed dry when they had been in togetherness, and while Friedrich himself had not been just surprised, but downright overwhelmed by the turn of events, Wilhelm had merely exclaimed his relief over them having finally talked. _“I feared that you and the Monsieur would make the mistake to cut each other off, Sire.” “It is what I almost did, Wilhelm. I should have noticed earlier that he is not blaming me... But himself.”_ Arranging the journey back to Potsdam had taken the valet no more than a day; the cavalry divison had been ready for departure within hours, just as fast as the guards and workers had loaded the king of Prussia’s belongings onto the carriage. There had been no need for Friedrich to aquire a second carriage - Giacomo had almost lost himself in a panic attack upon the suggestion that he could travel in a different carriage, the younger only having calmed when Friedrich had promised that he wold not force him to do so, and that he, of course, is allowed to take the same carriage as him. Even before setting out, the king of Prussia and his first valet had decided that they would fasten the journey as much as it would be possible; they would stop when the horses would tire and three meals a day, the latter for the Monsieur’s sake. Friedrich had wanted to reach Potsdam without any delay, and he had known that Giacomo had wished for it, too. They had set out during the early hours of a mid-July morning, and neither Friedrich nor Giacomo had looked back, literally and figuratively, as their carriage had been shaken from driving over the gravel stones. “Are you alright, my Sanssouci?”, the king of Prussia had whispered to the man whose head had been resting on his shoulders and whose left hand he had been holding in both of his. Giacomo had not raised his head but had nodded where it had laid on Friedrich’s shoulder, pulling the thin blanket a bit tighter around him with his free hand, a gesture that had been incredibly endearing to Friedrich in an inexplicable way. “We will be home in a few days,” Friedrich had went on, nuzzling his face into Giacomo’s hair to kiss a press into it. If there had been one thing that had edged him wrong, however, it had been the fact that Giacomo had turned out to be anything but talkative. Wilhelm had hinted that it may be due to the long time that he had spend in forced solitude, one more reason as for why Friedrich had wanted to return to Potsdam as soon as it had only been possible. “We will be alright.” He had not known if Giacomo had heard him, for his voice had dropped even lower as he had whispered them. It would take them five to six days to reach Potsdam, and Friedrich had hoped that the intention behind his words would turn out to be true. What he would do if they would not be alright, if the fragile construct errected between them would collapse, he had not known; he had not wanted to think about it either. Friedrich had merely hasted another kiss into Giacomo’s hair before he had propped his cheek gently upon the younger man’s head, which had still rested on his shoulder. _They will be home, and they will be alright._


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short hiatus, it wasn't possible for me to bring my mac with me to Vienna but I'm back now! :-) 
> 
> Updates might be slow as I need to do a lot for uni, but I'll try to be as consistent as possible. Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Returning to their lives at the court of Sanssouci had not been easy for either of them, though Giacomo had been faced with a lot more obstacles than the king or Prussia. While traveling, the Prussian calvary devision and the part of the court that had came along had, as Friedrich and the first valet had ordered it, made as few stops and breaks as necessary. They had stopped when it had been time for one of the four daily meals for Giacomo, which the doctor had prescripted for the Italian, or when the soldiers and their horses had been too tired to stay on the road. It had been Friedrich’s most urgend desire to waste as little time as possible with unnecessary breaks and extended stays, turning down any offer from nobles, which he had received by the dozens. The longing to finally be back in Potsdam, to be back at Sanssouci where they could heal from the ordeal had grown stronger with every hour that he had spend sitting in the carriage. He had hoped that they would heal, at least, and Friedrich had been very much aware that Giacomo would require so much more time to heal, if you could call it that, than he himself would - it had taken him no more than the first few hours of the journey and being in the same carriage with the younger man to realize just that. Giacomo had been anything but talkable, though had continued to rest his head on Friedrich’s shoulder as he had buried himself in one of the books that Friedrich had bought for and along with him. Hours had been spend exactly like this, Giacomo having fixed his entire attention onto the book of his hand in his hands, drinking the words in like a thirsty man while his head had ever so lightly rested on Friedrich’s shoulder. Friedrich himself would have laid his arm over the younger man’s shoulder, hyper aware of noticing even the slightest of twitches which could have told him that his touches had not been wanted, and it, too, had been hours which had passed in uttermost silence and while it could have been boring to do nothing else except watching the passing by landscape and trying to read along whatever passage would be on at the moment, the king of Prussia never would gave dreamed to complain about it. He, once more, had came too close to losing it, too close to losing him, so what had it mattered whether or not he had been bored, if his shoulder ached, because he had been able to move it due to Giacomo’s head resting on it for hours or if his arm had gone not from not being able to move it on a long while, too. Nothing, it had mattered nothing at all.

Friedrich had his Giacomo back, his Sanssouci, his Liebling, the sun of his skies, he had been going home with him when he had almost lost him for good. The initial relief that had set in, however, had not lasted for long; not longer than the first night, it had been, even if nothing had hinted at what had been inevitably coming. They had made halt in an open field past a small village that they had passed so that Giacomo would be able to eat his dinner after Friedrich had turned down a noble’s invitational offer to dine in his estate, as he had known, or rather believed, that Giacomo would not have been comfortable there. So the servants had set up chairs and a table and they had dined, though it had much rather been Giacomo eating with Friedrich watching him take in mouthful after mouthful of the soup that had been warmed over one of the cavalry men’s bonfires. Giacomo had not wanted any further expenses, no matter how many times Friedrich had offered that he would take care of them in an instant if Giacomo only wanted him to. _“I can have something cooked fresh for you, Sanssouci.” “It is enough.” “Are you sure?” The younger had nodded, the scene repeating for a few times over the rest of the day._ The later the hour of the evening had turned the more restless Giacomo had seemed to become, bouncing one of his legs in a manner that had been very much familiar to the king of Prussia himself, acting as if he had been waiting for the inevitable to happen. “Are you bothered by something, my love?”, Friedrich had thus asked him after the meal had been finished and the cavalry men, as well as the rest of the travel group, had began to prepare for a continuation of the journey. They would most likely go on until the current day would turn into the next one before they would make would make halt for the rest of the night. “No,” Giacomo had answered, a bit too quick, but as he had been in the process of getting back onto the carriage Friedrich had not been able to see who he had squeezed his eyes shut at the question. Despite not seeing Giacomo’s reaction to his question, Friedrich had strongly doubted the truth behind the younger’s words but had decided to not mention it to him. They had sat back down next to each other on the bench and a smile had appeared on Friedrich’s face when Giacomo’s head had found its way onto his shoulder almost on its own accord, and he had turned his own head to haste a quick kiss into the softness of his hair. His Giacomo. His Sanssouci. “Try to rest and sleep for a bit, my love,” he had whispered and Giacomo had stirred. “But the book... I still have to finish it.” Friedrich, unaware of the hidden message behind the younger man’s whispered words, had snorted and kissed him again, drawing him closer by the arm that he laid over his shoulder. “The book will not run away, mein Lieb-”, the realization of almost having slipped back to the use of the pet name washed over him with a cold wave, but Giacomo must not have noticed it. “Sanssouci,” Friedrich had corrected himself. “It is too dark to read comfortably now anyway.” The younger had not tried to argue with him, for it would have been a lie if he would have said that he had not been at least somewhat exhausted and when Friedrich had been sure that Giacomo would indeed settle down for the night, he had leaned his cheek on top of the blond’s head and had closed his eyes, too, welcoming the relief of sleep.

The relief had not lasted for long, to Friedrich it had seemes as if he had kept his eyes close for no more than a few moments before he had been pulled awake, rather roughly. “No! No no no stop - stop!” The king of Prussia had almost toppled over when Giacomo had jumped onto his feet, flailing his arms wildy around him as if fighting an invisible force. The younger, then having stood upright, must not have noticed that he had no longer been dreaming. He had broken out into a sob as his knees had given out, no longer supporting him, and Friedrich had been too perplexed, too shocked to react right away. His reflexes and senses had only kicked in when Giacomo had sank down onto the ground with a thud. “Giacomo!” The younger man had been pulling at his hair so hard that it must had hurt him greatly, strong enough for Friedrich to fear that he would eventually tear tufts of it out, but what had truly broken his heart had been the smal whimpers of “No” and “Stop, please stop, please” that Giacomo had out together with desperate cries. The king of Prussia had looked down at the trembling form of his lover on the ground in front of him; he should have known that there would be so much more wrong that what had met the eye until then. Neither the coachman nor the guards, which accompanied him, had seemed to have heart it. Thankfully so, as having witnesses to... _this_ surely would not have made it any easier for them to deal with. “Stop, please... Stop...” Friedrich had gasped his name, “Giacomo,” when he had slowly lowered himself onto his knees and the ground next to his lover, who had flinched when he had noticed the presence of another that close to him. “Giacomo, my love.” The older had reached out with both hands to try and pry Giacomo’s hands out of his hair, his breath catching in his throat when Giacomo had scrambled away from him, panic clearly visible in his pale face. The Italian’s eyes had merely been half opened and moving around without a real focus, so as if he had not truly perceived what had been going on with him and the world around him, letting Friedrich believe that he had been more asleep than awake. Friedrich had not known what had happened either, but a force inside him had urged him to act, which he finally had done by scooting closer to Giacomo, still on his knees, to take his tear-stained face into his hands. He had forced him, with gentle pressure from the hold he had, to look up at him; Friedrich had wiped at Giacomo’s cheeks with the pads of his thumbs as he had waited for the younger to catch up with reality, the skin he had been stroking sticky from the saltiness of shed tears. He had been sure, with no doubt, that his heart had never been broken so many times in a row than it had been in the past week, and seeing the man he loved being obviously haunted by the horrors of a very real nightmare had done nothing to heal the broken part of himself. “Giacomo,” Friedrich had tried again, “Giacomo, can you look at me?”, hoping that he would be able to reach him while not stopping the gentle gesture of caressing and after another wince, and a couple of hard blinks, Giacomo had finally realized, with his entire consciousness, just where he had been and who it had been that had been holding his face and kneeling there beside him. “Fr-Friedrich?”

“Yes my love, it is me,” the king of Prussia had answered, his voice, albeit not raised above a whisper, had still seemed to have been so much louder than Giacomo’s breathed out question of his name. “It is me,” he had repeated, swallowing hard to keep his own voice from breaking, too, and his eyes from filling up. Seeing Giacomo like this had been so painful, so heartbreaking, and the scene had been loaded with so much despair that Friedrich had whisped for himself to be able to turn this carriage around, go back to Stuttgart and behead the godforsaken duke of Württemberg himself before setting fire to his palace. It probably would not have helped Giacomo, but it most definitely would have taken some of the anger away which had been boiling inside the king of Prussia, togetther with an indefinable large amount of pain, grief and despair. “Friedrich?” The sobbed repetition of his name had then sounded somwhat close to a sigh of relief, and Friedrich had leaned over to be able to kiss Giacomo’s forehead and to his relief the younger had not flinched when his lips had touched him. It must had been his luck, as Friedrich had not considered that gesture beforehand, and the fact that he had to think before doing something as trivial as kissing his forehead, take his hands or even speak to him in a certain way had been a strange thing. He had lost so much, some of it possibly without a chance of ever getting it back, and as he had knelt there on the uncomfortable wooden floor of the carriage, Friedrich had doubted that he would ever get anything back. It was what he had hated Karl Eugen so much for; for robbing him of the the man he had loved. In every aspect. “Did you have a nightmare?” One could never be sure, even if almost certain about something, right? Thus Friedrich had asked, despite both his head and his heart already knowing the answer. “They killed him.” He had not known just what answer he had expected to be give by the younger man, but Giacomo’s flatly spoken statement had not been it. The first thing that had came up in Friedrich’s mind had been the frenchman, but Giacomo surely had not meant... “They - they took him away from me and - and killed him I -” Giacomo had been shaken by yet another sob that he had failed to contain and Friedrich had tilted his head, smiling sadly and in sympathy as he had caught on to what the younger had been getting at. “I know, my love. I am sorry. “They - why would they -” “Sh, Giacomo,” he had cut him off, without any real bite behind it, of course, tilting Giacomo’s head a bit higher. Brown eyes met blue, and Friedrich had managed to keep a reassuring smile playing around his lips as he had taken in the blotchy and stained by tears face of his younger lover. Despite it all he had still been so breathtakingly beautiful, so as if he had been send onto this earth with that exact gift, but even if he would not have been - Friedrich would have loved him all the same. “I know that it happened, and it is very sad that it had to,” the Prussian had spoken as low as before, his chest clenching quite painfully when he had been able to feel the tremble, which must had went through Giacomo’s entire body, being forwarded into his. “They - “ Friedrich had thrown everything over board, figuratively speaking. He had no longer been able to stand the distance between them, so he had let go of Giacomo’s face only to drive his fingers into the younger’s hair, thus cupping the back of his head, and pulling him against his chest, splaying his other hand on the space between his shoulder blades. “I know, my love. They cannot get to you ever again,” he had whispered after Giacomo had downright sank against him, a bit of air being knocked from his lungs as the other had hit his chest.

He would not have gone so far as to say that Giacomo had hugged him back, but the fact that he had neither winced nor stirred had been the permission that Friedrich had needed. He had guided Giacomo’s had from his chest into the crook of his neck where it met with his shoulder, leaning his cheek against the younger’s head as he had moved one hand up and down his back. “I will protect you, Giacomo, I promise that I will give my all to not let you come to harm again. I will give my best, that I do promise to you.” Friedrich’s voice had sounded suspiciously wobbly and rough, too, but he could not have cared less about something so unimportant. He had continued to run gentle circles on Giacomo’s body and rock his body; how long it had taken until Giacomo had been able to heave himself off the floor and take a seat on the bench again Friedrich had not known. All that had mattered had been the fact that they had eventually sat back down and when the younger man had, after an even longer time, dozed off again, it had been with his head pillowed on Friedrich’s thigh and with Friedrich’s hand buried in his hair, the tips of his fingers massaging his scalp all so gently. Thanks to the very specific orders that the king of Prussia and his first vaket had given out, they had reached Potsdam, after no more than five days on the road, on a sunny late July morning. The continuous citting had not done any good to either his back or his leg, but all the aches had been worth it when Friedrich had finally catched the first glimpse of the yellow façade of his palace, his home, his Sanssouci shining in the light of the summer’s sun. _Home_. He had known that they had been approaching Potsdam, of course, as it had been forwarded to him earlier that morning, but he still had felt the familiar bubbling of happiness building up in his chest when the carriage had turned onto the access road of Sanssouci and he had only needed to lean to the side to get to look at his home again. “Giacomo, love,” Friedrich had gently shaken the younger man’s shoulder where he had been sleeping leaned against the carriage’s wall, “wake up. We are home.” Giacomo had murmured something inaudible under his breath and had slowly sat up into a straight position as soon as he had regained his senses. He had rubbed at his eyes as he had done so, a sight that simply had been endearing to Friedrich, who had chuckled lowly and had reached out to brush a strand of Giacomo’s hair back behind his ear. He had liked it that long; no wig ever could have done it justice. The long blond hair, which had curled around its half length, had made Giacomo look like an angel, like someone that Friedrich, as the king of Prussia, should not be able to touch, despite the fact that it had reminded him of the sketch which he had received months ago together with the letter that had informed him of Giacomo’s sickness. Oh Lord, his Sanssouci had gone through so much pain ever since he had allowed him to be a part of his life... Giacomo had whispered something, but Friedrich had been too lost in his memories and thoughts to have caught it. He had repeated the gesture of brushing a strand of hair back as the carriage had began to be truly shaken due to being driven over the gravels tones that had lined the courtyard. “What did you say, my love?”

Giacomo’s eyes had went to the ground for a quick second before they had averted back up. “I said that... I am not sure if I can face them.” Friedrich’s hand, which had been caressing those long curls, had stilled and came down to rest on Giacomo’s shoulder instead. In the few days that had passed Friedrich had thought about their future, or rather Giacomo’s future, a lot. Sure, he could be giving out order after order to make any talk, any rumor, no matter how little, about his lover forbidden and could easily enforce that he would punish every one of his courtiers who would deliberatedly act agains it, but the king of Prussia had little hope that anything of it would actually help his Giacomo. His problems had ran deeper, much deeper than simple court rumors of what had supposedly happened to him. His poor Sanssouci had deserved everything, but not what he had been forced to live through. “You do not have to if you do not want to, Giacomo.” He had used his thumb to stroke at the soft skin of his lover’s neck, where the duke of Würtemberg’s marks had stood not too long ago, waiting to hear an answer and feeling a sting in his chest when had waited in vain. What he had also figured out during the past days had been the fact that Giacomo would truly only ever speak when it would be necessary, or when he would be explicitly asked to answer a question, and in comparison to the memories that Friedrich had with the happy, talkative and lively Giacomo, who had seemed to have always been smiling and laughing, the realisation had been a heartbreaking and devastating one. _He was r_ _obbed of so much..._ “All you have to do is to get through the welcoming ceremony, alright? I will not force you to do more than that, you can go to your room as soon as it is over.” Giacomo had nodded, pressing his lips together into a thin line and it had ached Friedrich to see how much stress the prospect of having to face so many people had caused him. The younger had been so broken, an the single pieces of him had been so fragile in need for so much gentle healing that Friedrich had been willing, and ready, to give everything in his power to support him. They would be alright simply because they had to, because any other option... had been no option at all. Friedrich had kept his hand in the crook of Giacomo’s neck until the carriage had came to a halt and until he had heard how multiple people had gotten off the carriage, landing on the gravel stones. “Welcome back to Sanssouci, Your Majesty,” one of the guards had anncounced, bowing deeply before opening the door and Friedrich had caressed his unmarked skin one more time before he had pulled his hand away, had half turned and straightened his waistcoat. He had not needed to look out of the window to figure out that a grape of courtiers had came together in the courtyard, for their chatters had already reached him, and Friedrich had failed to keep himself from sighing in annoyance, torn between the man he loved and the duties of his crown, which he had to fullfill. “Just the welcoming, Sanssouci,” the king of Prussia had whispered before he had given the signal for the guard to open the door, looking at Giacomo from over his shoulder almost longingly. The younger nodding had been the last thing that Friedrich had seen before he had turned his head back towards the then opened door of the carriage and had set into motion.

The ceremony had gone by according to protocol and as it would have at any other occasion; some of the courtierts, those who had been striving for a higher social rank, had nearly doubled over from the effort that it had taken them to express how glad they had been that their beloved king had returned, their voices trying to outdo each other with praising him the highest, and Friedrich truly had struggled to keep himself from sneering at them. He had answered with a continuous nod of his head when in reality he could not have cared less about their excitement, be it pretended or not. Oh, he had not trusted them and their tongues before the abduction, but then, in front of the background of the recent events and revelations, he had not even had a single ounce of trust left for them all combined. Some of them had most likely, most _definitely_ been involved in the intrigue, in the kidnapping. Whether it would be a single man or half of his court and no matter how small and seemingly insignificant their envolvement had been: Friedrich would ensure that they would be brought to justice. Or the scaffold, in that case.”Wilhelm.” He had adressed his valet as soon as they had walked past the convent of courtiers, standing waiting as the entrance door had been about the be opened for them. “Yes, Sire.” The door had been opened and the servants, which had accompanied the travel or had came to the scene, had moved past the king and his first valet, carrying their belongings. “Make sure that he is brought to his room safely, and that he is as comfortable as he can be. If he puts out a request I want you to accept and fullfill it, no matter what it is.” “Of course, Sire, I will.” Wilhelm had nodded dutifully and had turned on the spot to walk back towards the carriage, in which Giacomo had still been, and Friedrich had turned, too, but only to watch his valet go. He had only turned back around after he had made sure that Giacomo had gotten safely out of the carriage, with Wilhelm’s arm as support. _He will be alright_ , the king of Prussia had told himself when he had taken the short staircase into the side wing of the palace. A short whistle from him had been enough the get him answering in form of an array of barks before he had even walked around the corner, and a wide, though somewhat sad smile had grown on Friedrich’s face as he had opened the door of the kennels. He was immediately jumped at by his beloved hounds, their tails wagging at a record speed, their whimpers letting him know that he had been gone far too long for their liking. “I guess that you did miss me, huh? Yes you did, I know and I am sorry, but I had to leave,” he had said, his voice somewhat high pitched as he had tried to give the same amount of attention to every one of his dogs. They had helped him through so much in the past, especially in the first time after his release from Küstrin and his forced marriage with the woman he had liked just as much as he had liked his long gone father, and whenever one of his dogs had passed, he had been heartbroken by it. It had been the reason as for why he had dedicated a part of his garden for their resting place, with stone plates that read their names, and why his testament had said that he is to be buried there, too. He would much rather lie by his hounds than next to his father. And yet Friedrich had, as he had been petting them and as they had shown their honest excitement for his visit to them, been able to think of nothing but the fact that Giacomo had lost his own dog, and how heartbroken his lover had so obviously been because of it.

“I need to come up with something,” the king of Prussia had murmured to himself while he had drove his hand over the back of one of his oldest dogs, that had looked at him despite Friedrich not having talked to it. The dog had tiled his head back, looking at its owner as if he had truly been listening to what he had to say, its tail wagging slowly but consistent. “What do you say, hm? You do not have a possible idea, do you?” Friedrich had snorted, and his smile had faded as he had went back to thinking. While he had been busy in the kennels, Giacomo had, with in his eyes quite unnecessary, and unwanted help of Friedrich’s valet, returned to the rooms in which he had stayed during his very early time at Sanssouci and where his belongings had merely been kept the closer that he had grown to the Prussian king, as he had been practically living in the royal chambers before... Well, before. “His Majesty said -” “I do promise that I will be just alright on my own, Sire,” Giacomo had cut Wilhelm off, trying not to let his annoyance about what Friedrich had set as an order for the valtet to follow to be heard in his voice. He had appreciated it greatly, he wholeheartedly had, but when one had wanted to be alone nothing could have been worse than company that had been forced. “I am very well aware of what he has ordered, I just -”, Giacmo had made an almost weak wave with his hand before he had sat down on the edge of the bed in a rather resignated manner, turning his head to look out of the window that had seemed to have been at least three times the size of that of... his room back in the palace of Solitude. It also must had been the most that he had spoken in a row during the past couple of days, something that the valet had taken as his hint, as he had bowed before he, thankfully, had left, closing the gilded door behind him. Giacomo had sighed in relief when he had finally been alone, trying to ignore the feeling of uneasiness that had raised inside of him as soon as he had been alone, however. God, there had been no words with which he could have described how much he had missed this place. Both wings of the window had been opened, thus allowing the sound of chirping birds the warm summer morning’s air to flow into the room in a gentle stream, and Giacomo had closed his eyes for a short while as he had simple sat on the bed and listened to the almost soothing sounds. He had only noticed that he had been crying when a tear, that had made his way down his face, had tickled him underneath his chin and he had wiped at it with one quick and rather rough motion, letting out a breath which he had not even been aware of having held in with a choked-up gasp. He had doubted that he would ever be back, oh, he had truly thought that he had been damned to stay with Karl Eugen for the rest of his days, and from one second to another, Giacomo had no longer been able to stand the feeling of being in a closed room. He had needed to get out. Being surrounded by the remnants of his past life had hurt; _all he had wanted to do had been to say goodbye to his mother..._ Fixing his attire and the powder on his face in the mirror, he had made sure that he had not looked too pathetic, it had been more than enough that many, or most of them, would already know what had happened to him before they would even see him.

While Friedrich had promised him that he and his men would try to keep it as much as bay as it only would be possible, Giacomo had known that news like this would surely have already spread like wildfire. He had sighed wearily as he had stopped to look at himself in the mirror; he had been thin, too thin for the liking of any court, and with the circles under his eyes, which had been there despite of the generous amount of sleep that he had, surprisingly, gotten on the journey, he had looked like a man that had just been released from a penal camp. If there had been anything positive in his situation, it had been the fact that the wound on his chest had no longer bothered him, as it had finished scabbing and had healed over into a dark pink scar instead. _He marked you pretty well, did he not_. Giacomo had merely closed his eyes when the nagging voice in the back of his mind had made his presence known, and had turned around, somewhat abruptly, to walk out of the room. “Good day, Monsieur.” To say that he had been stunned by the greeting he had received from a passing couple of courtiers not even a few seconds after having closed the door behind him would have been an underestimatement. He had failed to open his mouth to speak before the men had already been gone again, and before he could have lost himself in his thoughts, however, Giacomo had shaken his head and had made his way to the grand escalier. None of the options that had been available to him had really spiked his interest; he could have gone into one of the saloon, enjoy a game of cards over a glass of wine and meaningless conversations, or he could have done the latter in a combination with a walk in the garden or the park; a shudder had gone through him at the sheer prospect of having to do it without Friedrich, or none of his friends. Doing so would bring him nothing but troubles. He had remembered that the last letter which he had gotten from Philippe had still needed to be answered, and Giacomo had made a mental notice to do so later that day. In the end, Giacomo’s legs had made their way to the stables without his head even realizing it. The smell of hay, grain and horses greeted him, and from somewhere he had made out the sound of someone sweeping the floor. Nothing had changed while he had been gone, there had still been the same horses peaking their heads over the gates of their stables with pointed ears to find out who it had came, and Giacomo had steered directly to the stable that he had known best. “Hello there, boy,” he had greeted Condé, the stallion that had been a gift to Friedrich from his father and who had quite the sophisticated appearance due to his silver-streaked chestnut coat. “I am very happy to see you,” Giacomo had spoken with a whisper, running gentle circles on the soft skin of the horse’s nose before slipping him the apple which he had taken out of the basked that had stood next to the entrance and moving his hand up to scratch its forehead. “You like that, do you not?” “Monsieur?” He had winced despite not having wanted to do so when he had been adressed by a person that had came to stand beside him out seemingly thin air. “I have not seen you here in a long time, Monsieur? Have you been on a travel?”

Giacomo’s worry had been unnecessary, as it had only been Johann, the ginger-haired stable boy, and Giacomo’s racing heartbeat had slowly calmed once he had realized that it had been only him. Though who he had expectd him to be he had not really known. He had managed a quick smile, “You could call it that, yes.” Johann had nodded, leaning heavily onto the broom with which he had been cleaning the floor and gesturing towards the stallion with free hand, “He has gotten better, Monsieur. The warm weather does him good.” Giacomo had smiled again, just as slightly, as he had turned his attention back towards the stallion, who had let him known that he was not happy with Giacomo having stilled the movement of his hand by neighing quite loudly. “You may take him out of his stable if you wish to, Monsieur.” “Are you certain?” “Of course, Monsieur. His Majesty has given out the permit for you to do so a while ago, Monsieur. His Majesty knows that you will be treating him good.” Giacomo had not turned back towards toward Johann, but had allowed himself to smile nonetheless. “I must have forgotten that His Majesty has done so.” “I will bring you his halter, Monsieur, if you would wait...?” “Of course, yes. I will wait.” The stableboy had hurried off, and Giacomo had continued the petting until Johann had returned only a few mere moments later. “Here, Monsieur.” “Thank you, Johann.” The boy, or rather the young man, had bowed his head before changing the hold he had on his broom, “If you would apologize me, Monsieur, but the stables need to be cleaned before noon -” “Yes yes, off you go,” Giavomo had cut him off, his voice low and lacking any real bite behind it, and Johann had smiled himself when he had noticed the latter before he had left, leaving the Italian to unlock and open the door of the stallion’s stable as soon as he had been alone again. Condé had came forward to meet him, smelling at the pockets of his trousers as if he had expected to be given further treats and Giacomo had hugged him for a quick moment; even the short conversation had drained him in a way that he had not really understood. Animals could never challenge him so. He had hummed a melody to himself when he had put the halter on the horse and had lead him out of the stall. The weather had been exceptionally good, with the sky lacking even the smallest of cloud as Giacomo had exited the royal stabled, Condé trotting at his side as if it had been unnecessary for the use of both the halter and the lead rope after all, and Giacomo had switched the hands which had been holding the rope to stroke the horse’s mane with the other. He had decided that he would take Condé to the meadow, which he had discovered when he and Friedrich had went on a ride one time. God, the amount of time that had passed since then... “Come,” he had whispered to the horse, that had seemingly found enjoyment at nibbling at the flowers that had been planted on each side of the pathway, pulling the lead slightly, laughing when the horse looked up at him with a flower still hanging from his mouth. “Friedrich will be mad if you destroy his beloved flowers any further.” The horse had obeyed, less because of Giacomo’s word and more because the pulling on the lead, and had resumed to trott beside Giacomo. Horses had always been something special to him, ever since he had been a child, for they had projected safety, of some sort, and provided a comfort which no human could ever give. Giacomo had enjoyed the silence that had encased his head like a cloud as he had walked along the gravel path, the horse ever so trusting at his side.

It had not taken him long to reach said meadow and Giacomo had been incredibly relieved when it had lacked any other human presence; Friedrich had told him that it was sometimes used for picnics during the spring and summer months. How he would manage to get through the official court dinner he had not even wanted to start wondering about, instead sitting down in the tall grass after with criss crossed having, walked off the path for a bit. Sure, it had been a very uncommon thing for a man of his social stand to do, but he had not cared as he had sat there, watching the senior horse graze. Silence, except for the sounds of nature. Peace, except for haunting voice in his mind. Do not cry, not again, he had repeated to his mind and in some sort of mantra, angry at himself for being so close to tears all the time. Friedrich surely must think of him as pathetic and more as a burden than anything else; what the courtiers had thought of him he had not even wanted to know. Giacomo had closed his eyes, both to stop them from burning and to protect them from the bright light of the sun, had leaned his head back and had turned his face towards the sky, hoping that his mind would stay silent for just a short while. Friedrich had stayed with his hounds until Wilhelm had appeared on the swell of the kennels, announcing that the Monsieur had not been willing to accept his ordered support. “ He was very... direct about it, Sire.” The king of Prussia had stopped petting one of his dogs and had straightened his posture, fixing his first valet with a look that would have anyone trembling in their boots. Wilhelm, of course, had been used to it, but he still had not dared to enrage him by possible provoke him. “And you left him all alone despite my order for you to keep a safe eye on him?” Wilhelm had opened his mouth to speak, but had closed it, wisely so, before he could have brought a sound out, instead merely bowing his head and taking a symbolic step back. “I apologize for my mistake, Your Majesty,” he had eventually said after a few seconds of silence between the king and his valet had passed, “I would have followed your orders if I was not so certain that the Monsieur would be anything but content. He made it clear that he did not want me close, Sire.” Friedrich had sighed, loosening the tension in his shoulders. Wilhelm had done the right thing; even if the idea of his Giacomo lingering by himself had not been an exceptionally good one. He had not wanted to be the one responsible for Giacomo’s suffering. _Again_. “You did the right thing, Wilhelm,” the king had said, allowing his words to be accompanied by a sigh. “If he wishes to be alone I will not be the one that denies him his wish.” That he had long planned to to visit Giacomo in his chamber as his next task Friedrich had not mentioned, but considering how well the other had known him he had not needed to even speak it out for the valet to know it. The king of Prussia and his valet had talked after another minute of conversation, and Friedrich had left the kennels en route for the wing of the palace which had housed his private chambers, using the servant’s passage in order to go unseen by the courtiers for he had absolutely not been in the mood to even see even the slightest of glipses of them. It had felt good to be home at last, away from the toxic environment that the Württembergian court had been, and Friedrich had a tug in his chest when he had closed the door of the servant’s passage after having crossed it and had found himself standing near the two doors, one of which would lead to his beloved Giacomo. Home. It had not been his honest wish to have Giacomo stay in a different room, as they had shared one for the majority of their relationship, but with all that had happened Friedrich had wanted to give Giacomo the space he had desired. He had not wanted to force his presence onto him.

With a smile on his face the king of Prussia had walked over towards the door of Giacomo’s room, knocking after having raised his hand to do so. He had frowned when his knock had not been answered, trying to stop himself from getting unnecessarily worried by taking into suggestion that Giacomo very well could have fallen asleep. The younger had tended to do that a lot in the recent time, as he yet had to regain his full strength and the days travelling in the carriage had not done any good to him either. So instead of knocking a second time Friedrich had slowly pushed the knob down, trying to be as quiet as he only could have been in order to not wake the younger if he should have fallen asleep, peaking inside the room once the door had been opened wide enough. His face had somewhat fallen when he had found the room to have been abandoned with no sight of Giacomo. Friedrich had pushed the door open to a full extend, letting out a sigh that could have been interpreted as one of resignation and he had walked in, and across the room to knock at the door of the adjoined bathroom with hopes that Giacomo could have been there. He had not been there either. The king of Prussia had not wanted to, but he had been worried. Giacomo had not seemed as if he had been very eager to to seek the favors of court life, and considering Wilhelm’s report Giacomo having suddenly changed his mind had been highly unlikely. But why had Friedrich been so nervous? Nothing could happen to him here, he would be safe no matter where he would roam on Friedrich’s ground. And yet the king of Prussia had wanted to find him, preferrably as soon as possibly, to make sure that there had been nothing wrong with him. The problem however had been the matter as for where he should start looking for him. He had gone into his room for the first stop, as he had almost foolishly hoped that he may had gone there, and when he had found it just as empty Friedrich had moved straight past the salons and into the gardens. That he should have checked in his library, to which Giacomo had sole permission for entrance, he had only realized when he had already reached the gardens; he would go there if his search on the outside would be unsuccessful, which he had hoped would not be the case, but when he had spend a good hald an hour roaming around the vast space of his garden and had meet anyone but the man he loved, Friedrich had been close to his wit’s end. Where could he have gone? Into hiding from him? He had sat down on a bench at the edge of the side parterre, in front of a tall hedge, to catch his breath and to rest his aching leg, though his rest had been short lived when he heard neighing from the nearby stables. He had not looked for him there, and had heaved himself onto his feet once more to take the somewhat hidden path behind the hedge to get through the stables faster. There had been a few people out and about there, mostly guards caring for their horses and stable workers carrying armfulls of hay, buckets of water or gran from stable to stable, but his Giacomo had not been in sight - a realization which he had made while letting out a curse under his breath. If Giacomo’s situation would not have been so serious Friedrich would have grown quite mad at him, for making him look for him as if they had been playing a game of hide and seek. He had walked into the stable, if he had already been there he could very well inspect it, and his brows had pulled together when he had seen that Condé stable had been empty, but before he could have made a biting remark about it not being the right time for the stallion to be put out to the nearest stable boy, he had been adressed by said.

“Your Majesty,” the young man had said, bowing after having taken the cap off his head. “The Monsieur has taken him out for a walk, Your Majesty.” Friedrich then really had to keep himself from groaning, as it should have been something that he should have considered on his own. He had known that Giacomo had loved that horse. “When did he come here?” The ginger-haired stable boy had set the cap back on his head, “It must have been an hour ago, Your Majesty. The Monsieur went into that,” he had pointed towards the far exit, “direction, Your Majesty.” Friedrich had nodded once before he had walked off to where the stable boy had pointed at without saying another thing, at least somewhat less worried then that he had known what Giacomo had been doing. He had merely hoped that Giacomo had not gone too great of a distance, considering his current level of strength it could have been dangerous, especially since he had gone by foot and not in the saddle. The king of Prussia had tried to hurry without letting it be too obvious or putting too much of a strain onto his leg, and his heart had summersaulted in his chest when he had needed to walk for no more than ten, maybe fifteen minutes until he had seen his Giacomo. The younger man had sat himself down on the meadow, a bit off the path, his back turned towards Friedrich as he had absentmindedly fondled with the horse’s mane while Condé had been happily grazing beside him. It had been such an idyllic scene, which very well could have been painted, that he had almost felt bad for causing a disturbance to it. “Giacomo.” He had called out his name, careful as to not raise his voice too much, but despite his best try Giacomo had winced before he had turned around just in time to see Friedrich walking through the tall grass of the meadow and towards him in a very un-kingly manner. “I have been looking for you for some time.” Giacomo had not met Friedrich’s gaze, rather looking at a spot somewhere beside the other. “I am sorry,” he had eventually answered, lowering his head to watch himself toy with a straw of grass. It had hurt Friedrich greatly that he had been able to draw parallels between Giacomo’s current behaviour, his whispered speech and countless apologies, to his own behaviour when he had been forced to live under his father’s brutal hand. It had been how abused individuals would act, and it had not needed a physician to hell Friedrich that. “Do not be sorry, my love. It is nothing that you should be sorry for, you did nothing wrong,” the king of Prussia had said as he had sat down beside his Giacomo, not thinking twice before doing it. Even if anyone would have seen him sitting in the grass like a peasant he would not have cared. He had watched Giacomo as unobtrusively as he could have, had watched how the younger had resumed to pet the horse and Friedrich had wished for few things more than to have him be as talkative as before. It had not helped to dim the flame of hate for Karl Eugen, which had been burnin in him ever since he had found out about the abduction, and as he had been watching the man he loved having been so obviously changed in who he had been as a person, Friedrich had found himself ready to cry. “Are you alright, my love?” Giacomo had nodded. “Then why did you come here?” He had known that he had breeched into dangerious waters; one wrong movement and Giacomo sould have slipped out of his hands. Friedrich’s question had gone unanswered at first, and just when he had believed that he would not be given an answer at all the younger had drawn in a sudden and raspy intake of breath.

“Giacomo?” When he had looked at him again, he had been shocked to find Giacomo’s brown eyes filled with unshed tears. “I do not know I -”, the Italian had gotten choked-up by a sob and had only managed to speak once the sob had escaped him. “I do not know what is happening to me, I cannot think and I -” “Sh, I know.” Friedrich had scooped closer to put an arm over Giacomo’s shoulder, like he had done it on the journey, gently pulling him closer to himself so that Giacomo could lean against him, which had been what the blond had done. He had not been crying, but the tremble going through his body had been very much noticable and a hint of how hard he had been struggling to keep himself from giving into his tears, and Friedrich had leaned his cheek against Giacomo’s head as his lover’s arms had came up to wrap themselves around his middle. He had been holding onto him like a lifeline, Friedrich had realized once he had felt how trembling fingers had grasped at the fabric of his blouse - not that he had been bothered by it, it had merely hurt him to be forced to see the man he loved in such a state. “There was a time in my life when I... felt the same as you do now.” “Really?” Friedrich had hasted a kiss into Giacomo’s hair, “Of course, my Sanssouci. I would not lie about it, though I will tell you about it at another time.” The king of Prussia had made out the soft sound of sniffling and had used his free had to pull Giacomo closer to him by cupping by cupping it against his head. “You are safe here, I can promise you that. No one will ever hurt you here.” “Thank you.” He had felt thrown back in time, back to the very beginning of their time together when Giacomo had still been so very shy and overly greatful, and Friedrich had allowed himself to smile at the memory which had suddenly stood in his mind. “There is no need for you to thank me, it is the least that I can do for you my love.” They had continued to sit on the meadow for some time, watching the elderly horse graze with all the peace in the world, until Friedrich had checked the hour of the day on his pocket watch. It had been close to noon, thus time for lunch. Not to mention that the position he had been sitting in had not been very comfortable either, but before he could have spoken up Giacomo had preceded him. “Is it time to go back?” Friedrich had nodded and had ran his hand through the length of Giacomo’s hair. “Yes, my love. It is time for your lunch and it is getting hot outside, too.” He had not really expected Giacomo to argue with him, and the younger man had indeed merely nodded and removed his arms from around Friedrich to stand up, though doing the latter not without the aid of Friedrich’s arm, which had been offered for his support. Friedrich had held Giacomo’s hand as they had taken the same path back to the stables, and even if their fingers had not been laced together... Friedrich had been happy. He had been holding his cane in his free hand while Giacomo had held the leading rope in his. They could be alright, they could heal. They simply had to. Friedrich had kept himself in the background when as he had watched Giacomo put the stallion back into the stable, smiling at the scene. How he ever could be without him had been a great mistery, and his consciousness had reminded him of close he had gotten to live in just that mistery before he could have silenced it.

As he had predicted it: the table had already been set for lunch when he and Giacomo had returned. The king of Prussia had gone against his own protocol by having given out the order to make it a private occasion and not possible for courtiers to seek his audience during it like they usually would have taken place. Running the country had been a task which had, figuratively speaking, been put into his cradle as a newborn, but making sure that Giacomo would be comfortable and as happy as only possible had been a so much more important to Friedrich. He would be able to work at night, when Giacomo would not require his unshared attention. Friedrich had not missed how Giacomo had hesitated to sit down at the lavishly set-up table, and something had alarmed Friedrich that there had been a reason behind his hesitation, a thought that had made him swallow hard. He had not wanted to know, but at the same time he had needed to find out just what it had been in order for him to help him. “Come,” the Prussian had gestured to the chair which had stood opposite of his own at the other end of the table with his hand, and had watched how Giacomo had slowly walked over towards it to sit down, almost hesitatingly. His heart had summersaulted when his lover had gifted him with a small but precious smile. The manservant, which had stood waiting at a far wall had came over to the table, when Friedrich had given him the sign, to lift the tops off the heated serving plates, moving around to take Giacomo’s plate and fill it with a servinf of the steaming soup that had given off a delicious smell. “Eat, love.” The manservant had retreated again, and Friedrich had only filled his own plate when he had seen that Giacomo had picked up his spoon and had began to eat. Giacomo had been sure that his chest would have bursted open if it only would; it had not been as if Friedrich had not been utterly gentle with him before, well, except for the few occasions where they had both wanted it consensually rougher, but he had been very much aware of how hard the older man had been trying. Despite it all Friedrich had still seen him as worthy, and the older man’s mere presence had been enough to muffle the nagging voice in the back of his head that would tornment him otherwise. “Would you like to attend my concert this evening?”, Friedrich had asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence in which they had eaten. “I...”, Giacomo had only began to think after he had opened his mouth to speak, which had caused his cheeks to blush a shade darker, “think that I will be coming.” If he would have been honest, he would have admitted that he had dreaded it, but music had been so important for Friedrich... “Sanssouci.” Friedrich had put his fork down, and Giacomo had known that he had known. “I will not force you to attent if you to not want to.” Giacomo had averted his gaze onto the table, “And I will not be mad or disappointed it you do decide not to come.” Oh, he would have liked to say something, but had not known just what he could have said without making an utter fool of himself so he had only nodded before he had resumed to eat. While Friedrich had loaded himself a second serving onto his plate, Giacomo had been satisified with one, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with his napkin before resuming to sip at his drink. The table had been cleared as soon as Friedrich had put down his fork, the main course being replaced with plates of sweets. “What would you like, my love?” “Nothing, thank you. I... am no longer hungry,” Giacomo had answered, almost meekly, angry at himself for feeling uncomfortable with turning down Friedrich’s offer.

 _You cannot even get a grip of yourself. Pathetic._ “It is alright, my love. You do not have to eat any of it.” Friedrich had smiled at his younger lover as he had put a french baked treat into his own plate; while he would have liked to see him eat more than just the bare minimum he never would have forced him to. Giacomo had seemed to have somewhat shrunken back into his chair, holding his glass as if it had been a sorce of security for him. Lunch had been over with too fast for the king of Prussia’s liking, but considering that Wilhelm had made a short appearance to infrom him that the waiting salon had been packed with waiting courtiers, ministers and representatives, it had been inevitable. Friedrich could have sat with Giacomo for the rest of the day, and he would have done so if it only would have been possible. “I will come and see you later, my love,” he had spoken, or rather whispered, leaning down to kiss Giacomo’s temple. “Do whatever you please in the meanwhile.” Giacomo had turned in his chait to watch Friedrich walk away, suddenly feeling very much alone in the dining room, despite the good handful of servants that had been hustling and bustling about to clear the table. He had stood, too, and had lingered quite awkwardly on the spot before had walked off; _it should not be so hard, so difficult_ , he had told himself in his head, as all he had done had been returning to the court that he had seen as his home after - “No,” he had then said, under his breath that time, knowing that he would be over with as soon as he would allow himself to reminisce about the past events. He rather would have died than do that. To take his mind off Giacomo had sat down behind his writing desk as soon as he had reached his room to write the letter to Philippe like he had told himself he would do it. His friend would be coming to visit him; he had not known when yet as Philippe had wrote to him that he had matters to attend in Paris first, but the French had promised that he would make the trip to Potsdam afterwards. Giacomo had not been able to wait any longer. God, how much time had passed since he had last spoken to him? He had taken his time to write his letter, extending it over multiple pages and closing the envelope with his wax seal after he had fanned the ink dry. Once he had done that, however, once the letter had been placed into the letter boy he really had not known what to do with himself, but instead of leaving the privacy of his room as he had done it before Giacomo had taken a book out of the shelf and had sat down on the canapé which had stood near the opened windows. Sure, he would have liked to visit the gardens, but his anxiousness had not been dimmed when he had been able to hear people’s voices reaching him inside. He had never been like that, so... He had shaken his head, more than just a bit confused by what had been going on with him; Karl Eugen had never left him, especially not during the nightmares that had haunted him daily, and for the next few hours Giacomo had lost himself in an old tale of knights, dragons and holy grails. When he had turned the last page, he had actually continued to stare at the book for a long moment before he had managed to snap out of it and had stood from the canapé. Instead of putting the book back onto the shelf Giacomo had set it down on his nighstand, reading it just once would not have done it justice.

He still had not known whether or not he had ought to go to Friedrich’s flute concert, which would take place in no more than thirty minutes. Giacomo had been able to tell the latter after a short look at the clock. He had loved to see and hear Friedrich play, to meet his eyes while the older had handled the flute in a way that really should not have been attractive, of course he had, but... if he had been honest with himself he would have admitted that he much rather wanted to be alone. Crazy, was it not? That after the time of forced solitude, of being practically cut-off from the world Giacomo would prefer to be alone? He would try to go the next day, he would. For Friedrich. The king of Prussia had tried to not be disappointed when it had been time for him to pick up the flute and one seat, the one right in front of him, had remained empty. He had already suspected that he would not turn up, and yet he had wished that he would have been there. Friedrich had always loved to have him there, it would be heavenly when he would play his beloved instrument while having his beloved Giacomo close to him. And without it, all that he had been left with had been the small circles of hand-picked courtiers who had witnesses him play and the king of Prussia had lost himself in memories of his Giacomo sitting there in the then empty chair as his fingers had moved over the instrument like they had been born to do nothing nothing else. Giacomo had been standing at the opened double-winged window when he had heard the knock at the door, and he had flinched involuntarily when it had been opened without him having granted a permission. He had recoverey from his inital shock rather fast whe he had seen Friedrich, who had peaked inside with a wide grin on his face. “Hello, Sanssouci.” He had breathed a “hello” back at him, his heart beating strongly against his rips when Friedrich had came in, had closed the door behind him and had moved towards the younger. Giacomo had began to be confused about Friedrich’s over-the-top good mood, remembering, however, just how much his music had meant to him and how happy it would make him, and Giacomo had felt bad that he had decided to stay away after all. “How are you feeling, my love?” He had felt himself blushing when Friedrich had, after coming to stand beside him, brushed a strand of hair back behind his ear. God, he had loved him more than he had ever loved another being in his life. “I am good,” he had answered, his heartrate once more increasing when Friedrich had reached out to take his hand. If it would have been possible, he surely would have felt Friedrich’s heartbeat, which had been going almost as strong as his, where their palms connected. “I am sorry for not coming to your concert -” “Sh,” he had been cut off; Friedrich had taken another step closer to him, into his space, and he had let him to it, not backing away despite the voice in his mind telling him to get to safety. _He was his home_. “Do not be sorry, Sanssouci. I told you that it is no one’s but your choice whether you go or not.” Giacomo had nodded, sensing that Friedrich had wanted to kiss him. But the kiss had never came, no, and the Prussian had only stayed that close for another moment before he had taken a step back, as fast as if he had just realized a grave mistake that he had made. Friedrich could have slapped himself for riding the wave of the high, which the music had given him, so long that he had almost kissed hin, no idea if the other had even wanted it. Oh, but he had wanted it, but how the younger had seen in he had no idea. Instead of kissing his plush and curved lips Friedrich had to be satisfied with kissing the back of his hand instead.

Giacomo had been so breathtakingly beautiful, even more so since he had not tried to be it. He must had powedered his face anew before Friedrich had came, and with no more than a dab of red on his lips he could have been every man’s dream. _But he was his, his, his._ “What did you do while I was gone, love?” Giacomo’s gaze had went to the floor for a second before meeting Friedrich’s again. “I... read,” the younger had answered, almost as if he had been embarassed to admit it, gesturing to where his bed had stood and Friedrich had squeezed his hand, greatful that he had answered verbally at all; the hate that had been resting in the back of his mind, the hate for Karl Eugen for having taken a part of the man he loved - he had tried to push it away, had not wanted it to ruin the moment. “Would you agree to take a walk with me? In the garden?” Giacomo had nodded while he had tried to pay no attention to the knot of nervousness that had formed in the pit of his stomach at Friedrich’s suggestion. There would be a lot of people, and as if his mind had been an open book Friedrich had said, “It will not be for long, only until it is time for dinner, Sanssouci. I will be there, you do not have to face them by yourself.” The king of Prussia had been very much aware that he must had been beaming with pride as he and Giacomo had taken the grand escalier down into the entrance hall of the palace, which they would need to cross in order to reach the nearest entrance to the gardens. Giacomo’s arm forearm had been resting on his and while he had taken enjoyment and pride out of the looks that they had received, he had known for certain that they had made the man he loved nothing but uncomfortable in his skin. He had tried to reassure him by hugging him as soon as they had been away from the main crowd. “You are doing so well, my love,” Friedrich had whispered as he had ran a hand over Giacomo’s back. The younger had answered by nodding and letting out a lung full of air that he had been holding in due to tension, loosely holding his arm wrapped around the Prussian king’s middle. Giacomo was let go of when he had stated that he had been alright and they had resumed their walk, arm in arm and in light silence. Dinner had gone by rather uneventful, Friedrich had ordered for Giacomo’s chair to be put next to his and while Giacomo had eaten his serving of soup and one half of a baked treat, Friedrich’s hand had never left his thigh. For Giacomo, it had very well been everything... It would have been a lie if he would have claimed that he had not been frightened, fearing that it all had been a mere but vivid dream from which he would wake to find himself under the hand of Karl Eugen still. His entire body had hurt from the thought alone, even as he had been sitting at a table with Friedrich, his beloved Friedrich. The other must had senses that something had been going on, whether it had been due to Giacomo somewhat freezing in mid-moving to wait until the pain in more than one region would ebb down, and had squeezed Giacomo’s leg gently. “Giacomo?” It had been enough for the younger man to snap back out of it and he had cleared his throat before managing a smile, hoping that it would convince Friedrich. “I am alright,” he had answered, though the crack in his voice had been tale telling.

Friedrich had noticed it, of course he had, but had not known what he could have done with that knowledge, so he had decided to not ask any further question. They had parted once more after dinner, with Friedrich having been needed in a consultation with his ministers of finance and justice and while Giacomo had known that his promise of coming to see him afterwards had been as true as it only could have been, he had also been aware of how long those consultations could last and it would be possible that he would fall asleep until then. Friedrich had placed a kiss into his hair before he had left, and Giacomo had pressed his hands together to stop himself from grasping for him as he had watched him leave. He had not planned to actually fall asleep, had merely wanted to lie down and rest for a bit, but exhaustion had overcame him without his consent, not allowing him to wake when someone had knocked at the door during a late hour of the evening. Friedrich had already suspected that Giacomo would no longer be awake; the consultation had taken longer than he had expected or wanted it to and while he had been utterly exhausted himself he had wanted to keep his promise of coming to see him. He had smiled to himself as he had opened the door as quietly and possible and had moved ton tip toes towards Giacomo, who had been sleeping with his back turned towards Friedrich. His lips had been slightly parted and in the shine of the candle Friedrich could have counted each of his eye lashes individually if he would have wanted to. He had looked so peaceful, and the king of Prussia had merely reached out to touch his hair before he had pulled his hand back, not wanting to wake him by accident, smirking when he had seen how Giacomo had not even undressed. “Good night, Sanssouci.” Sure, he much rather would have liked to lie down next to his Giacomo than to retreat to his own chamber, to his own bed which, in his mind, had suddenly seemed too big for him alone. Friedrich had allowed Wilhelm to help him out of his day attire and into his night dress. “Good night, Sire.” “You too, Wilhelm.” “Thank you, Sire.” Friedrich had yawned as he had shuffled over to his bed, his eyes already closing when he had slipped underneath the thin covers. He had pretty much been asleep as soon as his head had hit the softness of his pillow; he had been so exhausted, drained both in body and in mind and it thus had not taken him long to fall asleep, one arm extended and splayed over the empty space beside him. When he had jolted awake and into a sitting position in what must had been the middle of the night he had felt his heart racing and had heard the blood rushing in his ears. He had not known whether he had heard the muffled scream in his dream or not; and heavily leaned onto his hands, his chest heaving, he had listened into the silence of the night. Nothing, he had heard nothing but the ticking of the grandfather’s clock and yet he had not calmed, something had told him than it had not been a mere trick of his mind. Friedrich had still been sitting on his bed when he had heard a knock at the door, and a bit overwhelmed by the situation he had only answered after a few moments. “Enter.” His eyes had widened, and he had gasped, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed and standing up when it had been Giacomo who had slowly opened the door.

Friedrich had heard him crying before he had even seen him. “Giacomo...” In the dim light of the candles Friedrich had seen that the younger man’s eyes had been puffy and his cheeks tear-stained. Realizing that the muffled scream had came from his lover, Friedrich had felt himself beginning to panic, fearing that something had happened to him. “Can I - Can I stay with you?”, Giacomo had sobbed and Friedrich’s chest had clenched painfully when he had seen how his lover had been squeezing his hands together as if they had been the only thing that had hindered him from breaking down. He had hurried to close in on him, taking him into his arms; the younger had been trembling, most likely from the force of his sobs. “Of couse, love, of course can you stay with me,” Friedrich had whispered, running a hand up and down Giacomo’s rapidly heaving back. “You do not have to ask, Sanssouci.” It had taken him some trying, but he had managed to move them both towards the bed. Giacomo had been sniffling and wiping at his face, and Friedrich had not needed to ask in order to know that he had been haunted by a nightmare, blaming himself for them. He had known how bad they had been... Friedrich had laid down first before he had taken one of Giacomo’s hands and had pulled him closer, as the younger had showed no intention of getting on the bed by himself. “Come, Sanssouci,” he had whispered, shuffling a bit back so that Giacomo would have enough space to lie down next to him and lifting his arm for the younger to scoot against his chest. “Friedrich -” “Sh, I know.” He had closed his arm around Giacomo, pulling him even closer and driving his fingers into his hair. Friedrich had felt his breath on his skin and Giacomo’s fingers on the back of his night dress. _He had him back._ “I - I am sorry for -” “ No, do not,” he had cut him off, gently but determining. “Do not apologize, do you hear me? Never apologize for seeking comfort, Giacomo. Do you understand?” Giacomo had nodded, trying to move impossibly closer as his breath had still been hitching and Friedrich, despite being still very much exhausted, had stayed awake until he had been sure than Giacomo’s breathing had evened out. “I love you, mein Liebling. God, I love you so much,” he had whispered almost incomprehensibly quiet into his hair, kissing it once more before closing his eyes for sleep to take him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

In the following days, Friedrich had tried to be there for Giacomo as good as he only could have done it. Ever since he had found out, since he had his fears of Giacomo having been traumatized enough to believe that he had been casted aside if Friedrich would not come, see and reassure him on a regular basis confirmed, the king of Prussia had spared no effort to change the rules of his court in order for them to fit his lover’s needs. When Giacomo had to leave the music room one evening, with tears in his eyes and a tremble in his body because he had been overwhelmed by the amount of people present, Friedrich had not hesitated or thought about it twice before he had put an end to giving his daily public concert for an unlimited time - not caring how much disliking his decision to do so had sparked amongst his courtiers. It had not only been due to the fact that said courtiers had thus lost an opportunity of being as close to His Majesty as few rarely ever were, but also envy and resentment towards the Italian for playing that much of an important role in the king’s life as he had been. The jealousy had been to no avail, of course, as Friedrich never would have looked at another man in the same way as he had looked at his Giacomo, and in some way the king of Prussia had enjoyed the looks that would be thrown at him and Giacomo when they would go for a stroll in the garden. Despite everything that had happened to him, Giacomo had still been a beauty to the eye. Thin and elegant with a face that had not revealed any of the horrors that he had lived through, he had still been what many of the courtiers had probably wished to see during an evening alone with only their hands as enjoyment, and the looks which had been thrown at Giacomo with such an intention had been the one that Friedrich had not enjoyed. They had left him spiked-up, clutching Giacomo’s hand a bit tighter and if the younger would have been comfortable with it, he would have claimed him right there just to show that he would not accept them doing so much as look at him with obvious desire in their eyes. The fact that those looks had made Giacomo uncomfortable had only played into Friedrich’s hands. The king of Prussia had not only turned his evening concert into a most private event where he had played for his lover’s amusement only, for he had also changed court protol in regards to the meal times. Instead of granting ambassadors, courtiers, ministers or nobles the possibility to seek his audience out during lunch and dinner in the manner in which it had been done since his father’s reign, Friedrich had cancelled all audiences during the meals and instead ordering for them to take place in the hour afterwards.

 _Giacomo had let out a gasp, which could have been one of both surprise and disagreement when Friedrich had proposed said change of protocol to him as they had been reading in the king of Prussia’s private library the evening after the younger man had bolted out of the concert. “Friedrich, you do not have to -” He had fallen silent when Friedrich had put the book he had been reading down onto the bookstand in front of him with more force than necessary, making him flinch and Friedrich feel bad for having triggered just that reaction. No, he had not been angry with him, he never would have been angry with him for feeling the way that he had felt. The king of Prussia had stood from his armchair, and Giacomo had gasped again when Friedrich had came to stand in front of him for a mere moment before sinking down until his knees had hit the floor. If anyone would have seen... Giacomo had only looked when the book as taken from his hand and put onto the seat of Friedrich’s chair, and his heart had summersaulted when the next thing Friedrich had taken had been both of his hands, turning them so that he had been able to stroke at the sensitive insides of his wrists. “I have to,” Friedrich had said, his voice having dropped just as low as his posture had as he continuously stroke the soft skin while looking up to meet Giacomo’s tearfilled gaze. “I have to do it because I love you, Giacomo, and also because I want to do it. I have seen how uncomfortable you have been yesterday, my love.” The king of Prussia had kissed the back of one, then the other of Giacomo’s hand as he had watched how those brown eyes he had loved so much had been shining from the thin film of tears that had since laid itself over them. He had clicked his tongue when one tear had escaped, letting go of Giacomo’s left wrist to wipe it away and cupping his hand against Giacomo’s cheek once he had done so, smiling when the blond leaned into the touch. There had not been a need for many words between them; Friedrich had been able to read and understand him regardless. “Thank you,” Giacomo had whispered after he had turned his face to speak against the slightly calloused palm of the monarch. It had not been a kiss, but Friedrich had felt a shiver going through him at the touch of Giacomo’s lips on his skin. How much time had passed since he had last felt them he had not known, though going any further had not been something that he had dared to do. It had not been the time for it yet. “I told me that you do not have to thank me, do you understand?” Giacomo had nodded, and Friedrich had smiled at him as he had raised back onto his feet, had passed Giacomo’s book over to him and sat back down in the armchair beside his younger lover._ To his surprise, or as if his prayers had been heard, Giacomo had began to change. Slowly, with some setbacks, but Giacomo had moved forward on the path of healing. His nightmares became less and less frequent, though whether it had been due to him and Friedrich sharing a bed or from the fact that they had at least tried to talk about the events that had triggered them, neither of the two men had known.

The only time when Friedrich had hesitated to grant his Giacomo a wish, where he had not jumped to an “of course” in an instant had been when the topic of Philippe de Loraine’s request had came up. The French had send an official request for an extended stay at the court of Sanssouci, with allowance from Louis XV that, if needed, he ought to be reinstalled in his prior role as an ambassador for France. The king of Prussia must had sat a good half an hour behind the writing desk of his study, staring at the letter with the official seal and signature on it. Giacomo had mentioned it to him a few days prior, or, well, had rather given little hints about him hoping that Friedrich would allow the frenchman to come. “ _I have not seen him in a long time,” Giacomo had said, “I do miss the conversations we had. He is one of the closest friends I ever had.”_ Friedrich had very well known that Giacomo had not meant it in a way that had been disrespecting or derogative to him, but he would have needed to utterly stupid to deny that the friendship between his Beloved and the French. So he had sat there, the frenchman’s letter in his hand and scared at himself for feeling the need to write a biting letter back, for actually tempting to go against Giacomo’s wish and happiness simply because he had not been comfortable with the thought of having the French at his court. As much as he had known of their close friendship he had also known that de Lorraine harboured feelings for his Giacomo almost as long as they had known each other. It had not been Friedrich’s right to go in between and forbid Giacomo from staying in contact with the frenchman, despite himself not having forgotten how boldy de Lorraine had tried to pull Giacomo into his from the very first night that they had met, in the garden, before Friedrich had came to Giacomo’s rescue and had taken him to his favorite hiding place. The king of Prussia’s uneasiness about the frenchman returning to his court had only been further spiked when Henry, his young nephew, had, when Friedrich had asked him, told him that he and Philippe de Lorraine had since broken off their relationship. _“It was not due to a lack of love,” Henry had tried to reasure his uncle, whose face had hardened as if it had been carved into stone. “It is the distance, Uncle.” “Are you certain that his heart is not devided,” Friedrich had pressed out between clenched teeth, careful as to not alarm nearby courtiers which had, like Henry, came to Sanssouci for a festive evening event. “Between what?” The younger man had eyes his uncle for a short minute, his eyes widening when he had understood. “No no no Uncle, I promise that it is not because of him,” Henry had almost stumbled over his words from the speed that he had tried to clear the situation up, holding a hand in front of his uncle’s chest; they had all seen what could happen once Friedrich would allow himself to give in to his raging jealously._ Friedrich had not believed him, but had sensed that it would not be usefull to pressure his young nephew into admitting something that he had not known simply because he, the king of Prussia, had wanted to hear it so that he would have an honest reason to deny the frenchman’s permission. Giacomo’s smile, however, when Friedrich had visited him in the stables to tell him of his decision, had been wider than the most he had received from him in some time. The older man had not known it, but Giacomo had been utterly worried that his friend might not be allowed to come to visit him.

Friedrich had went rigid for a second when he had been hugged by his lover, who had been busy with brushing Condé’s coat beforehand. But Friedrich had not cared that there could have been dirt or hairs getting onto his clothing, no; Giacomo simply had not taken the initiative to hug him, to touch him in such a long time and especially in such a public place that Friedrich could not have done with out kissing him. The king of Prussa had leaned his cane against the wall of the nearest stable to cup Giacomo’s face, which had been looking up at him in a way that Friedrich, again, had not seen in a long time, but when he had his lover’s face in his head and had leaned down to capture his lips, he had found himself unable to do so. Their faces had been so close that they had felt the other’s breath on their skin, and Friedrich’s eyes had only moved over Giacomo’s features for a second before they had came to meet the younger man’s eyes. “Giacomo...”, he whispered, trying to ignore the presence of a stable boy in one of the stables behind him. Giacomo had not flinched, but with his breath having hitched Friedrich had known, or suspected, that he had been trying not to back away. God, he had loved him so much. He had not cared that they had not exchanged touches that had went beyond Friedrich kissing Giacomo’s forehead or cheek, beyond them holding hands or sleeping with Giacomo being spooned from behind. It would have been inhumane if he would have expected Giacomo to allow him to touch him where he had been violated, to let him do things that would surely bring those memories back up. As it turned out, though, Friedrich breaking his mind over it had been unnecessary. Giacomo, after having noticed that Friedrich had been obviously hesitating to act any further, smiled, more to himself, as he raised onto the tip of his toes to press his lips onto Friedrich’s with enough softness for it could have their first kiss - which it had been, in a way. Friedrich’s mind had came to a screeching halt where it had been racing mere moments ago when he had felt Giacomo’s lips on his. They were warm and dry and yet as soft as they only could have been, despite the slight chappedness which had been a result from the summer’s heat, and something inside Friedrich had snapped once he had realized that Giacomo had indeed, and again, made the first step. The younger man had gasped when a pair of hands combed into his hair, pulling him close as their lips moved on their own accord. He had been able to feel his heart truly beating against his rips, even more so when he had felt the first hint of Friedrich’s tonge licking at his bottom lip, asking for entrance, drawing a strangling sound from the king of Prussia when he opened his lips at the same time that Giacomo’s hands had came up to fold themselves in the back of his neck. Friedrich had not been able to remember the last time that he had felt so light-headed as when he had slowly entered Giacomo’s mouth with his tongue, overwhelmed when he had been met with the taste that had been unique to him. They had pulled apart only when their need for air had been too strong, both men gasping as they held onto each other closely. Giacomo’s hands had still been in the back of Friedrich’s neck, and Friedrich’s hands had still been buried in Giacomo’s soft hair. “Giacomo,” the Prussian had merely repeated, though him being out of breath had not been the only reason as for why he had sounded choked up. He had moved the fingers of one hand through the length of his lover’s hair, swallowing hard when his tongue simply had not wanted to follow his head’s orders of letting words pass over it. Giacomo, too, had not spoken a single word and had removed his hands only to wrap his arms around Friedrich’s middle and press his cheek firmly against his chest.

Giacomo had been a bit surprised by himself, but in his mind had already known that it had been the right thing what he had done. It had not been his goal to be stuck in the past; he had it hard enough with being reminded of Karl Eugen by the little voice in the back of his head as well as certain touches and words, which had still triggered him no matter how hard he had tried to surpress them. He had wanted to have a future with Friedrich as much as the Prussian had obviously wanted a future with him, a fact that had always brough the warm feeling of comfort to him, and Giacomo had snuggled closer Friedrich should have been concerned to find his own vision blurred by tears, considering that they had been very much in public, but he could not have changed it even if he would have tried, especially not after Giacomo had pressed even closer against him, the younger’s arms tightening a bit more around him. He had lowered his head to burry his face in his lover’s hair. “I love you,” he had whispered once he had gained the control over his tongue back, running circles on the younger man’s scalp. He had been incredibly relieved that his Giacomo, his beloved Liebling, the love as well as the sun of his life, seemingly had not been lost to the horrors of the past like Friedrich had began to believe it. Sure, everything that they had been doing had been done in small and slow steps, but all that had mattered had been the fact that they had kept going. Friedrich had been so proud of his Giacomo, and he had expressed that pride by whispering it into the hair that he had just kissed. If Giacomo would have given up on life, if he had not mustered the strength to first fight against the fever that had riddled him before even tackling the traumatic events Friedrich would not have blamed him. Though how he would have lived one without him he had not known; it also had not been something that Friedrich had been very eager to think about. _Without his Giacomo, there would not have been a life left to live for him._ He had squeezed his eyes shut when that realization had came to him again, and out of the sheer fear of loss which had accompanied said realization had laid his hands onto Giacomo’s upper arms, thus urging him to pull away, and as soon as the younger man’s face had came back into sight Friedrich had put a finger under his chin to tilt it back and capture his lips all over again, this time not waiting before gently pushing his tongue past Giacomo’s lips. He would not have done so if his lover would not have wanted it, of course, and judging by the way he had held onto Friedrich’s upper arms the older would have needed to be illiterate to read it wrong. With the presence of the nearby working stable boy long forgotten, Friedrich had not been able to resist the temptation to let one of his hand wander southwards to come to rest on the swell of Giacomo’s ass, squeezing at the soft flesh just once and much lighter than he had done it in the past. Giacomo had gasped and drove forward at the touch, and Friedrich had jumped to put distance between them when he had only noticed the straining on his pants once Giacomo had came into touch with it. Sure, it would have been a lie if he would have stated that he had not missed their activities, in bed or elsewhere, but he had not wanted to let Giacomo know in such an obtrusive way.

“I apologize,” the king of Prussia had breathed out, his chest heaving from the extortion that the breath had caused as well as the feeling of arousal that he had only then felt settling in, trying to hold his hand in front of his groin without letting it be too obvious of a gesture. He had no idea if Giacomo... if he could ever be comfortable with any sexual touches again, after having suffered so much through and because of them in the very recent past. “For what?”, Giacomo himself had whispered back, his heart summersaulting when his thoughts had taken a much different turn that he, or Friedrich at that matter, had expected them to. “I...” Friedrich had trailed off, but had taken one fast step into Giacomo’s space again when he had seen how something behind his lover’s gaze had changed. He had decided, withing an instant, that he had not liked that change. “I do not want to force myself onto you, Sanssouci. I do not want to,” Friedrich had drawn in a deep breath, “treat you like he did.” There, it had been out after having sitting on Friedrich’s mind for as long as they had been reunited. He had almost not dared to breath when he had awaited Giacomo’s reaction, but everything that had happened for the next few moments had been the widening of the younger man’s eyes and the low gasp which had escaped him. “Friedrich -” “I am sorry -” “Would you stop, just this once,” Giacomo had cut him off, though with a tone much too soft for it to sound convincing, and Friedrich surely wouls have smiled at the irony of it if there had not been a certain seriousness standing in between them. Friedrich had spend weeks trying to get Giacomo to stop apologizing, and then he had been on the receiving end of such tries. Giacomo had came closer to him, cupping a hand against Friedrich’s cheek who had allowed himself to close his eyes. _There had been no words to describe how much he had loved him._ “Even during your worst days, Friedrich,” the younger had said, his lip being nursed at with his tonge as if he had been struggling to continue, “you could not even come close to the person that he is.” Friedrich’s chest had clenched, albeit not painfully, at the words that he had received from his lover. “There are no words that can describe how much I love you, Giacomo. No words.” Friedrich had not believed that he had ever admired another human being as much as he had admired his beloved Giacomo. He had been so strong, so brave and so trusting in him despite it all that his heart would have bursted from the sheer amount of love that it had contained if it only would have been possible. “I love you too, Friedrich.” Giacomo’s hand had continued to rest on Friedrich’s cheek until the king of Prussia had reached up, rather blindly, to take it into his, bring it to his lips and kiss each individual knuckle. They had been able to enjoy their moment for a bit longer until they had been pulled out of it by a quite impatient sounding neigh and the scraping of a studded hoof against the stable’s floor, making them burst out into laughter just as they had been about to bring their lips together again. “He is almost as impatient as you are,” Giacomo had snorted, looking at Friedrich before making his way back over to the horse which had still stood tied where the Italian had worked on it before Friedrich’s appearance. Friedrich himself had to chuckle when he had seen how the younger man had slipped Condé a couple of sugar cubes that he had retrieved from the pocket of his waistcoat, “And you are rewarding such behaviour, my love?” “Do not be so stuck up,” Giacomo had answered, his voice laced with a soft chuckle. “You are spoiling him.” “One of us has to.” Friedrich had snorted and had straightened his attire for a bit before he had reached for his cane. “I will see you at dinner tonight, my Sanssouci.”

Things between them had truly taken a turn for the better after they had passed further into August. Friedrich had sometimes been left in wonder at Giacomo’s recovery, which had been happening more steadier and faster than the king of Prussia had believed it to, considering that he had not even been able to stay in a room with a group of courtiers a short while ago the fact that Giacomo had been rather outgoing once more had been a small miracle. Friedrich had known that the younger man had been trying hard, to be better just as much as to surpress and hide any sign of his trauma surfacing. In fact, Friedrich had woken a few times in the middle of the night to find the space beside him empty and muffled crying emerging from the adjoined bathroom. _He had barely kept himself from groaning, still more asleep than awake, when he extended an arm to feel for his lover beside him but had been met with nothing but ruffled-up covers, downright jumping into a sitting position when he had realized that Giacomo had not been there. Trying to calm his racing pulse, which had been spiked on even further by his worry, Friedrich had breathed shallowy to be able to listen into the seemingly silent night. Then he had heard it: the soft and muffled sound of someone trying to catch his breath that had been interrupted by sobs, and Friedrich had listened to it for a few seconds before he had swung his legs off the side of the bed and had, dressed in nothing but his sleeping robe, waded through the darkness of the room towards the door on the far wall. He had heard him blowing his nose, and Friedrich had decided not to knock before opening the door to the bedroom. There he had been, his Giacomo; sitting on a stool near the sunken bath, wiping at his eyes with the balls of his hands. “Sanssouci,” the older man had whispered with a gentle “tsk” in his tone as he had hurried to reach his side, pulling him into an embrace without hesitation. Giacomo’s hands had clung onto the back of Friedrich’s night dress and Friedrich had carded his fingers through his lover’s hair in a circling motion as he had listened to his sobs, which had since seemed to have passed their peak - meaning that Giacomo must had been in there for some time without him having noticed it. He had not needed to ask in order to know that he had been haunted by a nightmare, which had been fueled with very real events, and had laid one hand into the nape of Giacomo’s back while driving the other into his hair while Giacomo had tried to calm himself. “You are alright, my love. You do not have to fear him any longer.” The younger had continued to sniffle for a while, and Friedrich had leaned down to kiss the top of his head every now and then as Giacomo’s face had been buried in his middle. “You are with me, and I will protect you. I promise,” Friedrich had whispered, repeating his words a few time and only removing his hands when Giacomo had stirred and pulled back. “I am sorry for waking you,” the younger man had spoken lowly, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand in one quick motion and looking up at Friedrich with heavy-lidded and red-rimmed eyes. Clicking his tongue yet again, the king of Prussia had taken Giacomo’s face into both hands to wipe at the wetness present on his cheeks, “You did not wake me, my love.” He had kissed his forehead, the tip is his nose and had tilted Giacomo’s head a bit to be able to kiss him on his soft and curved lips. Comfort._ The kisses that had been exchanged between them had mostly been ones of comfort, of reassurance and greatfulness. Sure, there had been desire, too, especially when Friedrich would kiss him when they would be in bed together, their limbs tangled together while still dressed in their sleeping attire.

It would have been a lie if Friedrich would have said that he had not wished to be able to take his lover again, to be on and inside of him. Months had passed since he had last done so, since he had last had Giacomo writhing underneath him, and God knew that Friedrich had missed it. Giacomo’s nails scratching on his back, Giacomo’s fingers tightly gribbing at his hair when he would snap his hips forwards over and over again. Giacomo’s high pitched moans, and the obscene curve of his neck as he would throw his head back from the force of his orgasm. The feeling of his lips on Giacomo’s skin, caressing it... Friedrich had missed it all, but would seek solitude in the bathroom every time that he would wake up with a tenting night dress, embarassed by not being able to surpress his need. Giacomo had been violated, he had been _raped_ by Karl Eugen more times that Friedrich had ever wanted to think about, and there surely had been things that Friedrich had not known about so it had been understandable that Giacomo had not made any effort to go further than the simple play of their lips and tongues. Oh, Friedrich had been utterly thankful that he had at least been able to touch and kiss him at all, considering how frightfully close he had came to losing it all. Despite Giacomo’s healing and the happiness which had once more developed between them, there had still been one thing which which had nagged at Friedrich’s mind: Philippe de Lorrain’s presence at his court. The frenchman had announcent his arrival for the second week of August and Friedrich had easily seen how eager Giacomo had been to see his friends again. It had been just that eagerness that would have made the king of Prussia feel like the worst man on earth if he would have cancelled it, no matter how uncomfortable he had been with the prospect. If Giacomo had been aware of how he had seen the French, after everything that had happened between them, Friedrich had not known. He had not mentioned it to him, that was. He had tried to be happy for him, smiling back when Giacomo would gift him with one, too. If he would have been honest with himself, the king of Prussia would have admitted that he had been scared of losing Giacomo to another. He had been scared that his Beloved might just wake up one morning and decide that he would be better of with another, yes, maybe even with the French. Friedrich had tried to keep that fear down, only allowing it to surface when he had been alone in his study or when Giacomo had been fast asleep in his arms; he had sometimes cried then, silent tears which had ran freely as he had carded his fingers through Giacomo’s hair, listening to his lover’s slow and regular breathing beside him. He had known that he had not been unscarred by the kidnapping and the month that had been filled with nothing but fear for Giacomo’s wellbeing and life, but his own needs would always continue to stand behind those of his lover - or so he had seen it, not Giacomo, of course.

He had almost stopped breathing when he had heard the knock at the door of his study. Friedrich had retreated to it in the early hour of the evening, after he and Giacomo had eaten their dinner and the younger had stated that he would be making a visit to the stables. He had felt the tension inside of him building up the entire day, and he had known that it would escape him whether he would like it or not; so he had locked himself in his study and had told his valet that he had not wanted to be visited for the rest of the day. Friedrich had barely managed to turn the key in the lock before his vision had gotten blurry within a second, and since then he had been hunched rather than sitting behind his writing desk. While there had been tears running freely, a sob yet had to escape past his lips. He merely had needed to let it out, and he had not wanted his Giacomo to see it. At the knock the king of Prussia had cleared his throat before calling out a “Who is it” with a voice that he had tried to steady as good as possible. “It is me, Friedrich.” Giacomo, he had realized, his heart summersaulting when he sat up a bit straighter. “Come in.” The knob of the door had been pushed down and the lock had rattled when Giacomo had tried to open it. “Ah, I forgot that it is locked,” Friedrich had called out, cursing under his breath as he stood from behind his desk and had strode over towards the door, turning the key with trembling fingers after having tried to wipe his tears away as good as he only could have done it. He had opened the door, coming face to face with his lover. His Giacomo. He had worn his hair in a pulled-back pony tail which he had closed with a bow; he also must had washed his face before he had came to see him, for it had lacked any make up whatsoever, thus revealing the lightly freckled skin that would usually be covered with a layer of powder in order to meet the court standarts. Neither of them had said anything and Friedrich had swallowed hard when he had stepped aside to allow him to enter, having seen how Giacomo’s eyes had widened a bit when they had met his. Of course he had seen that Friedrich had been crying. “What happened?”, the younger had thus asked as soon as the door had been closed behind them, taking a few hasted steps into Friedrich’s direction, who had somewhat retreated to the back of the room, to be able to cup his face. The king of Prussia had shaken his head weakly, “Nothing happened, Sanssouci. Do not worry about me.” But Giacomo had not allowed himself to be shaken off so easily, and he had stroken the skin on Friedrich’s cheeks, which had been sticky from the saltiness of the tears, in a gesture that Friedrich had done to him countless of times in the past. “Friedrich,” he had whispered, his eyes meeting with the other man’s as if they had been searching for something, and Friedrich had known, had truly known that he would not be able to hide anything from his lover. Not that he had wanted to, anyway. “What happened?”, Giacomo had asked in the same gentle tone as before, and Friedrich had lowered his face further into the younger man’s hands before he had opened his mouth to answer. He had told him that he still had not been over the fear of losing him, though said fear had since shifted from losing him to the fate of death to losing him to another. Giacomo had not interrupted him when he had spoken, had merely continued to hold and stroke his face, wiping away the fresh tears that had found their way out of his eyes. “It is what I am so scared of,” Friedrich had confessed at the end of his short speech, raising his gaze to meet Giacomo’s again, “I cannot lose you, no matter in which way. You are everything that I have, Giacomo. Everything... that my heart requires in order to survive.”

Friedrich’s eyes had not been the only pair that had been filled once he had finished speaking, and something behind Giacomo’s warm and tear-filled eyes had told him that he had understood. The same eyes had told him that this had been a “now or never” moment between them, of some sort, one of a first between them and Friedrich had jumped onto it without a second of hesitation, cupping his lover’s face and pulling him up into a kiss. It was demaning and not all that gentle, with Friedrich pushing his tongue past Giacomo’s parted lips at the very first touch. Giacomo had accepted it withing an instand, folding his hand in the back of Friedrich’s neck to pull him down and closer as he had pushed his body against him, gasping when their mouths would part only for long enough to for them to draw in much needed intakes of air. Friedrich had not been able to think once he had realized that Giacomo arching his body against his had not been an accident and he had earned a choked-up moan from the younger when he had moved both of his hands down the curve of his spine, almost teasingly slowly, and had placed them splayed over Giacomo’s ass, squeezing at the soft flesh. “Friedrich -” The king of Prussia had pulled away enough to be able to look at his lover with a, in their situation, serious expression. “Do you want me to stop?”, he had asked, moving one hand away from Giacomo’s backside to rest it in the small of his back, “I will stop it you -” One of Friedrich’s eyebrows had raised up when Giacomo had made a low sound of protest, “Be assured that you will not ever get to touch me again if you stop now.” Friedrich had to blink twice, unsure if Giacomo really had just whispered those words against his lips, and the last of his doubt had only vanished after the younger had surged forwards and into him again. Chuckling, he had returned both of his hands onto the swell of his lover’s ass, squeezing and groping at it more boldly. If kissing could have been a thing send from heaven, Friedrich would not have been surprised if the kiss he and Giacomo had shared had been blessed upon them by God himself. If had been more than he would have dreamed to ask for, feeling his blood rushing in his ears as much as it had been pooling in his nether regions at the moan that Giacomo breathed into Friedrich’s mouth when Friedrich had pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. Afterwards, he had not known how he had gotten the idea, and whether or not it had been initiated by the certainty that he had not been the only one with a tent in his trousers, but he had eventually managed to hoist Giacomo up by cupping his hands under his ass, with the support of the younger wrapping his legs around his middle and his arms around his neck, and put him down on the edge of his writing desk. Both man had moaned when their cocks had rubbed together, due to their groins then being at somewhat of the same height, and Friedrich had shifted the attention of his mouth to the soft and unmarked skin of Giacomo’s neck once the younger had freed his arms from around Friedrich’s, smiling against said skin when Giacomo swiped an ink pot and multiple pieces of parchment off the table as an answer to Friedrich sucking a gentle bruise low on a spot low on his neck. If it would have gone after Friedrich’s liking, he would have taken him over the table in the same way that they had done it before, but he had sensed that they had not quite been there yet - not that he ever would have complained. He had taken his time to suck a twin bruise, taking in the low moans and whimpers that Giacomo had tried to muffle by pressing his lips together, and Friedrich had tried not to think about the last occasion that someone who had not been him had bruised him there, especially not as gently as he had done it. “I doubt that anyone will hear you, Sanssouci,” he had whispered after he had licked at the skin he had sucked on one last time and had lifted his head onto Giacomo’s level again, flashing him a grin.

The sight he had been greated with had been heavenly, the blush on Giacomo’s face had been utterly endearing and Friedrich had only realized how much he had missed the glimmer in his eyes, the one that would not be a result from tears swimming in them, when Giacomo had looked at him in just that way. Love, lust, need; Friedrich had been able to read it all in the brown that had been unlike any he had ever see before. That they had reminded him of Katte he had tried to surpress - it would not have been fair to his Giacomo. You almost lost him in the same manner, his consciousness had reminded him nonetheless, and Friedrich’s breath had stocked when had put a finger under his lover’s, his beautiful Giacomo’s chin to be able to truly look at him. Giacomo had been so beautiful that Friedrich, for what had to be the thousandth time since he had loved him, had wondered what he had done to deserve someone like him, and he had kept a finger underneath the younger’s chin as he had allowed his free hand to wander down into the space between them to trace the outline of Giacomo’s cock through his trouser. The blond had whimpered, even at the faintest of touches from the tips of Friedrich’s fingers. “Friedrich -” The king of Prussia had silenced his lover by kissing him hungrily, but given the way Giacomo had reacted by arching into the touch he had not seemed to have minded it and Friedrich had to chuckle when Giacomo had let out a short whimper when he had removed his hand again. “Come here, Sanssouci.” He had wrapped an arm around the younger man’s back to be able to move him closer towards him so that Giacomo’s cock had been pressed directly against his, and resumed to kissing him when he moved his hips in the same manner that he would have done it if he would have been fucking him, thus making their clothed cocks rub against each other. Considering the long time that Friedrich had paid attention to his nethers with only his hand as a source, even simple rutting had been almost enough to push him over the edge after a few mere moments. It had not helped that Giacomo had been whimpering and purring into his mouth while his hands had held onto Friedrich’s face, complementing the movements of Friedrich’s hips with his own. They had been close, and pretty fast at that; so fast that they probably would have been embarassed if it would have happened at another time, and by the time that first Giacomo then Friedrich had passed over the peaks of their orgasms, their lips had been kissed raw. Giacomo had came with a short cry and Friedrich had kissed him through it, swallowing his gasped confession of “I love you”, which, together with the feeling of dampness that had soaked through the fabric of Giacomo’s trousers, had forced him over the edge. Time had seemed to have stopped between them as the aftershocks had hit them, the fact that Friedrich had been gripping the edge of the table with both hands while leaning his forehead against Giacomo’s had been the only thing that had kept him upright on his feet. Both men had breathed heavily, and Friedrich had closed his eyes when he had felt his lover’s fingers caressing the short hairs in the back of his neck. God how he had missed that, how he had missed him. Once Friedrich’s knees had no longer felt as if they would give in at any moment, he had straightened himself and lifted his head to kiss Giacomo one more time, though with much less heat than before, unable to resist the temptation. His heart had been racing in his chest, which had threatened to burst from the sheer amount of love for Giacomo that had resided in there; he had no words to describe it, and there had not been a need for words.

“I love you, Sanssouci,” Friedrich had whispered against Giacomo’s forehead where he had leaned down to kiss it, lingering for longer than they would have done otherwise. “I love you too,” the younger had whispered back, his hands fondling with the front of Friedrich’s waistcoat. The king of Prussia had put just enough space between them to cup his palm against Giacomo’s cheek, who had leaned into the touch in a most endearing way. “Were you... comfortable with it? Or did you...” Giacomo had turned his face to press a kiss into Friedrich’s palm before he had answered, “Of course I was,” he had spoken with a soft voice, leaving absolutely no room for doubt of the truth of his words. “I would have told you otherwise.” Friedrich had shaken his head, unable to accept that he had been blessed with someone of such a good nature. “My Sanssouci,” he had said, and the tone in which he had done so could have been interpreted as that of awe as he had brushed a strand of hair off Giacomo’s sweaty forehead. “What did I do to deserve you?” “My heart belongs to you, Friedrich, and you alone. Nothing will ever change that.” “You are too good to me.” “Why?” Friedrich had hesitated for a few moments, considering his next words. “You...” Giacomo, though, had not even allowed him to finish his sentence, which had probably been a wise decision, and had merely taken the older man’s face into his hands again. His heart had been heavy, knowing that Friedrich had blamed himself for what had taken place, for what other people had done to him. “Will you do me a favor?” “Anything,” the king of Prussia had answered within a second, the blue of his eyes almost invisible due to the expansion of his pupils. “Stop blaming yourself for what he has done to me.” Friedrich had to swallow at that request, embarassed not because Giacomo had been able to read him so openly but because Giacomo had to adress it at all. He had wanted to protest, had wanted to claim that he could not do so since it in fact had been his fault that Giacomo had left the court Sanssouci in the first place, but had decided not to. Not when the love of his life had been looking and talking to him in the way that Giacomo had been doing it then, so he had only nodded and allowed himself to be pulled into another kiss. His gut feeling, which had told him that they would be doing... _this_ more often, would turn out to be right.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you for the crazy amount of hits, kudos and comments that you left on this as well as on the other stories that I wrote so far - you guys are amazing! Thank you! <3
> 
> And I apologize for the late update: my seminar papers are killing me.
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

The king of Prussia had tried to keep himself from groaning, but his face had still scrunched up when the first beams of the morning sun had woken him up by tickling the tip of his nose. He had blinked hard, freezing in motion when he had wanted to bring both of his hands up to rub at his face and had noticed that he had held his left arm firmly around another person’s body. Giacomo. Something inside of his chest had pulled together, not quite enough for it to be painful but certainly enough to make the breath catch in his throat, as he had looked down and at Giacomo, who had still been in a deep sleep, judging by the regular way his breathing had came, with his head pillowed on Friedrich’s chest. Friedrich had remembered that Giacomo had placed it there the evening before, when they had retreated to bed after their encounter in Friedrich’s study. His arm had gone positively numb and he would have liked to change his position, but he never would have dared to open his mouth and complain about it. Not when, once his mind had been ready to work again, he had realized just how big of a step towards their future together they had made, and especially not when he had looked down at himself once more to really take in the sight of his beloved Giacomo. His lover had rested his hand on Friedrich’s chest, a bit apart from his head as if he had wanted to take up all the space on Friedrich’s upper body, a thought which had made the king of Prussia smile to himself. Giacomo’s sleep must had been peaceful, as the only sounds that had came from him had been the soft exhaling and inhalting of air past his slightly parted lips. He very well could have been an angle, Friedrich had thought to himself, as he had allowed his eyes to trace over his relaxed brows, his closed eyes and utterly peaceful face. It had been an almost picturesque sight for Friedrich to see his most beloved Giacomo sleeping in such a way. The creases on his face had been eased out by the gentle hand of sleep, and it still had been mind blowing to the Prussian that there had stood no remnants of the horrors he had gone through on it. That there had been parts of his Giacomo that had not gone by unscarred Friedrich had tried to ignore, instead moving his fingers, the ones of the arm which he had held around his lover, through Giacomo’s hair. He had done so with slow and gentle circles in order to not wake him by accident, stretching his neck to be able to kiss the top of the younger man’s head. “I love you, mein Liebling,” Friedrich had whispered, feeling a hint of sadness that he had not known whether or not he would be able to call him by his favorite pet name ever again, and all because of Karl Eugen... He had not wanted to think about it, had not wanted to recall the images of him seeing Giacomo for the first time in over a month back in front of his inner eye. Not that he had forgotten them, oh no, he would never be able to forget thst very moment, but considering that _Giacomo_ , who had suffered so much and had yet lived through it all, had allowed him to kiss and hold him, to love and to cherish him, it would have been embarassing if Friedrich himself would not be able to move on.

He had held his breath when Giacomo had stirred in his sleep, sighing and blindly shuffling a bit closer to Friedrich. It had been a most endearing little gesture, and the king of Prussia had smiled to himself as he had tightened his hold on him. He would never let go of him again, even if Giacomo would have to leave his arms at some point. Oh, if he would be required to abdicate and pass the crown and titles over to his nephew in order to keep his Giacomo happy, healthy and at his side, Friedrich would not think about it twice. He could do without his crown but not without the sensitive man who had stumbled into his life when he had least expected him to, and who had since filled the space of his heart, Having him in his arms had felt right, as if Friedrich had been destined for nothing else; holding his hand, kissing him or simply enjoying his presence, it had all felt right, and he had been so close to losing him multiple times because of his own behaviour, his own decisions and mindless actions. But Giacomo had returned to him almost in the same way that the stars would return in the night sky, to him out of all the people that Giacomo could have rightfully chosen over him. Friedrich would have needed to lie if he would have tried to tell himself that his lover had been right, that the reason as for why he had deserved Giacomo had been because he had loved him. _“My heart belongs to you, Friedrich, and you alone. Nothing will ever change that.” “You are too good to me.”_ He had made many mistakes in his lifetime, and most of them had harmed those who had been close to him. When he had convinced his mother that he would like to learn how to play the flute, his father, when he had caught them after over two years, had beaten the musician who had taught him and had been more of a father figure than Friedrich Wilhelm had ever tried to be. When his father had taken him to Dresden, had beaten him bloody in front of thousand men, and his depression had became so bad that he had written a letter to Wilhelmine, stating that he was contemplaining an attempt of flight, it had been his sister that his father had beaten bloody at the next possible occasion. And then, when he had enough and he had been at a point where he would have chosen a bullet to his head than another day under his father’s hand, when he had met the young Lieutenant Hans Hermann von Katte during an inspection of the troops and when he had began to realize that a woman had never been what he had desired, when they had came up with the fateful plan to go for refuge in England by fleeing over France which had been destined to fail, it had been his Katte who had to pay the biggest price for it while having played the smallest role. Burried deeply in his thoughts, Friedrich had only realized that his eyes had began to burn when he had actively blinked again. He would probably never be able to get over the loss that he had suffered through Katte’s death, but he would not have felt bad or guilty if he would have stated that Katte had played more of a background role for some time. Ever since he had allowed Giacomo close, and ever since Giacomo had been the one his entire love had gone through, he had been able to push the ghost of the past away, for it would not have been fair if Katte would have continued to stand between them like an invisible barrier. Friedrich had been sure that Giacomo would have long left him if he would not have managed to do just that. He had not known how long he had continued to lay outstretched on his back, with his arm around his sleeping lover, until Giacomo’s breathing had changed in a way that had made it obvious that he had been waking.

Friedrich had watched how Giacomo’s face had scrunched up in the same way that his had done it when he had woken up, had watched, with a smile playing around the corners of his mouth, how the younger had made a tiny mewling sound as he had brought the hand, which had been laying on Friedrich’s chest, up to rub at his visible eye. “Good morning, Sanssouci,” he had said with a chuckle and had pulled his arm away when Giacomo had made the same endearing sound and had rolled over onto his back, his face hidden in his hands. The younger mumbled something, but Friedrich had not needed to understand it to understand him; Giacomo had never been very much of a morning person. Friedrich, too, had rolled over, but on his side to be able to face his lover from a better angle, and had reached out to caress Giacomo’s hair. “It is not as early as it could be, love. Stop the fuss,” the king of Prussia had scolded with a playful tone underlining his words, being rewarded with a soft laughter from Giacomo as the younger had looked at him through the gaps of his fingers. From the creases around them Friedrich had been easily able to tell that he had been smiling. “That counts for you, as the king of Prussia. Not for me.” Giacomo had stretched and jawned, the collar of his nightshirt shifting in a way that had allowed the love marks that Friedrich had sucked onto his skin the prior evening to come to light, and Friedrich had nearly stopped breathing when he had watched how Giacomo had slowly, almost sheepishly, moved one hand to touch said bruises, looking at the older man and biting his lip for just a split second. It had been to long since he had seen such a glimmer in his eyes, and Friedrich had cupped his hand against Giacomo’s cheek, “You... do not mind them, do you?” His fear of the marks that he had left behind being put into the same category had been cracked down as soon as it had came up when Giacomo had shaken his head before he had leaned into the touch, allowing Friedrich to stroke his cheeks. “I have always liked them when they were yours.” Giacomo had continued to smile at him in that almost angelic way, his unbound hair framing his face, and Friedrich could not have done without kissing him. He had moved slowly, their gazes switching between moving down to their lips before meeting each other again and their eyes only fluttering close when Friedrich had captured Giacomo’s lips. The kiss he had brought onto him had been slow and sensual, teasing with just the hint of tongue, and he had teared a gasp from Giacomo when he had deepened it, moving his hand to the back of Giacomo’s neck. It had not been very comfortable, with the position that they had been in, so they had broken apart sooner than either had liked. “I love you.” “And I love you, Sanssouci,” Friedrich had said, smiling and rolling his lips in remembrance of the kiss as he had turned back over onto his back. “Why are you in bed still?”, Giacomo had asked next, moving until he had been able stack his hands on Friedrich’s chest and put his chin on top of them, looking up at his lover with wide eyes. “You are always gone when I wake up, Friedrich.” The king of Prussia had made a humming sound of agreement as he had used his thumb to stroke Giacomo’s bottom lip, “It was possible for me to make an arrangement for today to be an exception, my love.” “Thank you.” “You are most welcome, Giacomo.” The younger had merely answered with a high-pitched sigh and had pulled his hands away to rest his cheek on Friedrich’s chest again, tracing some of the silver scars he had found there with the tip of his middle finger and just like he had done it every time that he had been touched there, Friedrich had shivered.

“You did not forget that he will be arriving today, have you.” He had felt his cheeks heating up as if he had been a youth that had just gotten caught breaking his mother’s favorite vase, and Giacomo had known that his assumption had been right when Friedrich had noticably avoiced to meet his gaze. “Friedrich,” the Italian had thus said, with a voice so gentle that it had barely been above a whisper, sitting up to look down at his lover’s face that had lost all its color as fast as it had gained it. This time it had been Giacomo who had reached out stroke Friedrich’s cheek, and he had been shocked albeit not very surprised when the older man’s eyes had been suspiciously shiny. He had not forgotten about their conversation from last evening, Friedrich’s confession about just how scared he had been of losing him to another. “There is no need for you to worry so much, or do you not trust my words -” “No, that is not it!”, Friedrich had cut him off and while his voice had been raised enough to make Giacomo flinch, his words had lacked any bite whatsoever. The king of Prussia had sat up, an apologetic look on his face, “I apologize, Giacomo. I did not mean to raise my voice at you.” He had reached out to take one of the blond’s hands into his, bringing it to his lips to kiss its back. Giacomo had not answered, thouch the soft smile had shown Friedrich that his apology had been accepted. “I have absolute trust in you, do not ever think that I do not trust your faitfulness, I merely... I remember the way he looked at you, how he tried to put you under his spell.” “Philippe is my friend,” Giacomo had retorted, almost meekly. “I do know that, my love, and I do not expect you to change it.” “Then do not be so worried.” Friedrich had taken a few moments to answers, moments that had been spend with him looking down at his lover’s hands which he had been holding, caressing the knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “I will try no to be. Just... do not expect me to act friendly with him.” A smile had grown on Giacomo’s face, and the Italian had leaned over to plant a kiss onto a corner of Friedrich’s mouth. “It is all that I could ask of you.” “You are too kind to me,” Friedrich had chuckled, grabbing Giacomo by the back of his head to kiss him onto his lips, drawing it out as much as possible. “We should get dressed for breakfast, Liebling.” Both men had frozen when that word had escaped Friedrich’s mouth, and the king of Prussia has been sure that he had felt the sinews in the back of Giacomo’s neck tensing. Oh he could have slapped himself for speaking without thinking. “Giacomo...” “Could you... I mean would you...” Friedrich had watched, with wide eyes and uncertain eyes, how the younger man had stalled, had hesitated or merely had not known what to answer. He had given him the time he had needed. “I loved it when you called me that,” Giacomo had eventually brought out, his voice having dropped back down to a whisper. “I loved it and I do not want... him to take that from me, too.” Friedrich had not known what he had expected, but such an answer had not been it. It had warmed his heart and had made him want to break out into tears at the same time. Warmed his heart because he had not been aware of Giacomo’s feeling towards the pet name, and break out into tears because of Giacomo’s willingness for him to use it, despite the negative aspects which had been connected to it. “Are you certain?”, he had asked, not wanting to make Giacomo believe as if he had no other choice, and the younger had nodded quite frantically. “Please.”

“Please,” Giacomo had repeated, his eyes wide as he had looked at Friedrich, who had then leaned over to be able to pull his lover into a short but meaningful embrace. “It is my wish, too.” “Thank you.” No, do not thank me for that.” He had pulled back, the tips of their noses almost touching as he had stroked Giacomo’s cheek in a repetitive motion, “We ought to get dressed for breakfast, Liebling.” If Giacomo would have been honest, he would have admitted that he had been a bit terrified of hearing said name again, but he should have known that the feeling of horror, which had collected in the pit of his stomach every time that he had been adressed by Karl Eugen as such, would have been replaced with one of warmth instead. “Yes, we should. I am quite hungry.” “Come on, then.” Friedrich had been the first who had stood from the bed to walk over to the door and ring the bell, which would notify the valet that his presence would be required, and had, once Wilhelm had appeared, disappeared into the adjoined clothing room after smiling one more time at Giacomo from over his shoulder. Giacomo had answered the smile with one of his own and had continued to sit on the bed for a few more minutes before he had stood, had opened the front of his nightdress to shrug it off and start looking for his attire for the day. He had hummed to himself when he had done so, cherishing the moment which would have been a regular occurance for any other person. Giacomo had cherished it most honestly, searching through his rows of different attires, ranging from leger to ones that he could have worn during a coronation, all while not losing his hum, though losing himself in the moment from which he had only been pulled out when Friedrich had suddenly been in the room once more. “You are... not dressed yet.” He had worn his undergarnments, meaning that he had not been as bare as he could have been, and yet Giacomo had felt heat creeping up into his face when he had hurried to pull the next best piece of clothing out of the opened chest of drawers in front of him. That Friedrich’s voice had gotten choked up, he had not really perceived. “I apologize, Friedrich.” Giacomo had only turned around once he had managed to get into the trousers, only almost losing his balace once, though when he had turned around, all he had been met with had been Friedrich’s back. The king of Prussia had turned away, with a red head, almost as soon as he had spotted his lover barely dressed, having felt the need to give him some privacy, and had since stood waiting with his fingers absentmindedly fidgeting where his arms had hung down his sides. Giacomo had not even tried to hide his grin as he had slipped inside the blouse, which creme-colored fabric had played the perfect counterpart to the dark red trousers and waistcoat. To think that _this_ Friedrich, who had not dared to look at him, had been the one that had somehow convinced him to get down onto his knees in the open of the temple... Friedrich had failed to keep the gasp in when he had felt a pair of arms closing around him from behind. Giacomo had nestled against his back, pressing his cheeks into the space between Friedrich’s shoulder blades. “I love you,” the king of Prussia had caught the whipered words, putting his own hand on top of Giacomo’s that had folded over his stomach. He had never been a fan of revealing his own need for comfort, for reassurement that had overcame him from time to time, but with his beloved Giacomo, he had been spared of having to voice it out. “And I love you, mein Liebling. But we ought to be going before we can skip breakfast for lunch.” The younger man had snorted and had eased the hold he had on the older’s waist, allowing for his hand to be taken and for himself to be lead out of the room after another breathtaking kiss.

Breakfast had gone by without any disturbance. The king of Prussia and his lover had sat at the opposite ends of the lavishly set up table, plates and étagères stacked with assorted fruits and sweets between them, the assigned manservant passing between them to refill their glasses once they had been emptied. While Friedrich had not been able to silence his voice of responsibility in the back of his mind - well, he _should_ have gone after his duties instead of spending a good hour participating in a meal that could have very well shifted into lunch - but it had been somewhat pushed away when something he had said had made Giacomo laugh. Giacomo had leaned over to wrap one arm around his stomach while holding his other hand over his mouth as he had been shaken by laughter, and Friedrich had found himself smiling, too, not because he had believed himself to be especially funny, but because he had not seen him laugh like that in a long time. _For way too long_. “Do not say that, Friedrich!”, the younger man had scolded in a playfull tone once he had stopped laughing enough to catch his breath, still sounding a bit yapping as he had wiped at his eyes. “Are you telling _me_ , the king of Prussia, what do say?”, Friedrich had chuckled, winking at Giacomo over the rim of his glass. “You do not appear very... kingly today at all, _Your Majesty_.” “Oh, am I not?” Giacomo had reached for his own glass, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner before taking a short sip and Friedrich simply, and truly, had not been able to stop thinking about how lucky he had been to have him in his life - especially since he had not needed to use his imagination to try and think about how it would feel to be met with the gap that Giacomo would leave if he should disappear out of his life. “Not very much, no,” the blond replied with a snort, putting his glass back down and snatching a small cherry pie from the plate in front of him and while Friedrich had since stopped commenting on it, he would still feel glad every time that he would see him eating on his own. Giacomo had been on the skinny side, which, according to Friedrich’s court physician, had been a normal circumstance considering the major health issues the Italian had suffered from in a relatively short period of time. They had fallen into silence after that, a light one which had only been interrupted by the sound of clinking cutlery, and Friedrich had made sure to only put his knife and fork down once Giacomo had finished, as the manservants would beginn to clear the table as soon as the king would put them down - protocol had demanded it. “Will you be returning later than usually?” Friedrich had nodded and had ran a hand over his face in a somewhat tired gesture, “I sadly will be forced to, Sanssouci. The morning’s work I postponed needs to be done before tomorrow.” “I take it that you do not want me to stay awake until you return.” “No, Liebling. You need your rest.” “You do too, Friedrich.” “I am aware,” the king of Prussia had said with a sight as he had heaved himself up onto his feet, the manservant, who had just picked up a stack of golden plates, had hurried to get out of his path as soon as possible. Giacomo had felt himself blush when Friedrich had stopped at his side to bend down and place a kiss into his hair. “I will see you later.” He had nodded, looking up to smile at the older man, who had  answered it with one of his own and had looked down at him in admiration for a few minutes before walking away.

Friedrich had been unable to concentrate on his work once he had been seated behind the desk of his study; something he should have known beforehand. He had a stack of files in front of him, they had ranged from mercy petitions and financial applications to reports of alleged violations of the rules and orders that he had set up in order to protect his Giacomo, and yet all that had been on his mind, that had consumed the majority of his attention had been his Beloved. His writing feather had been hovering over the piece of parchment which he had been requested to sign, but Friedrich’s eyes had been fixed on the oil painting, standing on an easel in his field of view at the far wall of his study. If he would have known how to pull himself together enough he probably would have scolded himself, as his work had not been something that he could neglect for longer than he had already done it, be it with his absence when he had set out for Giacomo’s rescure or with just this morning, but as he had been sitting there, the king of Prussia had allowed himself to give in to his world of thoughts. For a while, at least. He had very well known that he would fail if he would attempt a try to stop them from rising. Would it be selfish if he would wish for Giacomo to try and be his... old self for longer than a breakfast, or maybe an encounter in the study? For him to try a bit harder to get better? _It would be utter mostly so_ , he had answered to himself, glad that his thoughts were for his perceivement only. To say that he had been scared at his own way of thinking would have been an underestimation; Friedrich had felt genuinly bad to even have allowed that thought to cross his mind. He had known that his Giacomo had been doing his utter best to go further down his road of recovery - and the fact that they had spend a good amount of time _rutting_ against each other much like unexperienced youths in heat the prior evening had been a prove for just that if there could have been one. Maybe it had been due to what he had been through in his life, or maybe it had been all the bad scenarios which had been lingering in the back of his mind, but Friedrich simply had not been able to stop worrying about Giacomo’s health and safety, even here at the court of Sanssouci, which had been a place almost as safe for him as there only could be. The king of Prussia had continued to stare at the painting in his point of view, though whether he had done so for a few mere minute or an hour, he had not known. While Friedrich had been breaking his mind trying to come up with whatever he had been supposed to do next, Giacomo had been sitting in his instead of Friedrich’s room, reading even though he had not really been able to concentrate on the printed words in front of him. All he had been waiting for had been a guard knocking at the door that would announce the arrival of his much appreciated friend, as all Philippe had been able to inform him about had been the day of his arrival, not the time of day. Giacomo had, of course, known that the road could be unpredictable, so he honestly had not hoped for much that for Philippe to arrive on the day that he had wrote him he would. Oh, there had been so many things that they had needed to talk about that Giacomo had not even known where he would begin - implied that their eyes would stay dry. He had sighed, closing the book rather zestfully and standing from the canapé to put it back to its designated place on the shelf. There truly had been nothing else for him to do than to wait.

As it had turned out however, Giacomo had not needed to wait for long. In fact, he had just been about to leave his room en route for the stables, both to pass the time and to see how Condé had been doing, when he had been startled by someone knocking at the door. Judging the force that it had been done with, it could not have been one of the scarce guards of Sanssouci which Giacomo had suspected would be the one to inform him of Philippe’s arrival. The Italian had not answered verbally to it by asking who it had been that had knocked, but had instead moved over to the door to open it right away, trying not to sigh audibly from annoyance - and had found himself inclosed in a strong pair of arms before there had even been a chance for his reflexes to kick in. He had only barely kept himself from yelping out, though a choked-up gasp had escaped him once his cheek had landed against a solid chest. “ _Oh mon_ _Dieu_ , mignonette. _Oh merci le Seigneur_. Oh Giacomo...” Giacomo had squeezed his eyes shut hard enough for them to tremble as Philippe had clicked his tongue, overwhelmed by emotions himself, and the blond's arms since having wrapped themselves around the frenchman’s upper body without Giacomo having to tell them to do so. “You really cannot behave yourself without me around, can you,” Philippe had said, sounding suspiciously close to tears and Giacomo had snorted, pressing his cheek a bit more against the other’s chest while closing his arms impossibly tighter around him. For how long they had held onto each other as if they had been each other’s life line they had known just as little as they had cared about it. “Come on now, Mignonette,” the frenchman had said after sniffling once more, easing the hold he had on Giacomo to signal that he could pull back. “Show me that pretty face of yours,  _mon_ _beau_.” Giacomo had snorted and loosened his arms, too, his eyes filled with tears as he had indeed pulled back enough to look up at his friend. “Do you have any idea...”, Philippe had wanted to finish his sentence, though his speech had been cut off by a sob which had very much audibly creeped its way up into his throat and Giacomo had tilted his head, smiling with tear-filled eyes as he took Philippe’s by the arm and pulled him further into his room, enough to closer the door behind him. “Do you know how scared I was?”, the French had eventually managed to bring out after having cleared his throat twice, his eyes wide as they had roamed over Giacomo’s face. “I though that I would... never be able to see you, let alone talk to you.” Unsure what to answer Giacomo had merely pressed his lips into a thin line, averting his gaze to the floor when his friend had reached out to take his hands. “How are you, _mon beau_?”, Philippe had asked, his voice having dropped to a much lower and softer tone than the one he had spoken with before. “And please do not lie simply because you think that it will make me feel better.” “I am... better now, I really am.” Giacomo had continued to look down, watching how Philippe’s thumbs had been stroking the backs of his hands. “I am.” “Then why can I hear the doubt behind your words, Giacomo.” He had almost winced when Philippe had said that, and the tears which had shot into his eyes had been of the kind that he had been ashamed of. “I want to be, I -” “Is he forcing you to?” “No! No, he is not,” Giacomo had hurried to answer, shaking his head quite forcefully. “promise that he is not, I want to be better because Friedrich... he is trying to be so for me, too.” “Mignonette -” “Trust me, Philippe. Please,” Giacomo had looked back up. “He is treating me as good as I only can be treated.”

Philippe had not needed to open his mouth to speak - Giacomo had been able to read the words off his face. _Remember that it is not only him who loves you._ “You are very dear to me,” Philippe had whispered, not letting go of Giacomo’s hand, who had allowed him to do so. While his heart had belonged to Friedrich, and only Friedrich, it would have been both a lie and not fair to his dearest friend if he would have said that he had not loved Philippe in a way which had been different to the way that he had loved Friedrich. Because he had loved him, something that he never would have expected. “So are you to me.” They had smiled at each other, the frenchman’s eyes just as glistering as Giacomo’s had been, and the tension, which had been hovering over their heads, had vanished to be replaced by a lighter weight. “What would you like to do? Go for a walk in the garden?” “I would love to do just that, mignonette.” “Come on, then.” Unbeknownst to Giacomo, he had not been the only one who had felt thrown back in time when he and Philippe had walked through the corridors of the palace, side by side, to reach the entrance to the gardens of Sanssouci. “Oh no no,” Philippe had answered to something that Giacomo had voiced out before just as a guard had opened the door for them to pass through it. “I would have been more surprised if... His Majesty would not have allowed me to come. I believe that he is very well aware of how important the, well, relatively good relations between France and Prussia are.” The Italian had snorted, chuckled and shaken his head, moving his arms to fold his hand loosely in the small of his back. The chuckle had made Philippe cock an eyebrow, and one of the frenchman’s eyebrows had cocked up in a quite elegant manner. “What is so funny, mignonette?” His tone had not been anywhere near serious and while he had noticed that there had been many gazes thrown at them, more so than in the past, he had not mentioned it to Giacomo; he had not forgotten what he had wrote in one of his letters. _I cannot stand them, Philippe. They look at me as if they had never seen another human being, as if I am a mirror that they are looking into. I try to ignore their chattering voices, their snarls behind raised hands and fans and it does help that Friedrich is there. He is always there, at my side, even if he is needed elsewhere. But them - oh, Philippe, having you at the court of Sanssouci will be splendid!_ “I merely remembered something.” “And what would it be that you remembered?” “Do you remember the night we first met?” This time it had been Philippe who had snorted, “I do indeed, yes. I have never forgotten it. He was not to happy about me talking to you.” “ _I must say, Monsieur, you are one of the most beautiful Italian men I have ever met and I spend a whole year in Italy_ was the first thing you said to me after a greeting,” Giacomo had retorted, a chirp underlining his words, and when he had turned his head to look at the French, he had been surprised to see his usually fair face colored in a hue of pink. “By that time I was unaware of you and...” “How on earth did you even come up with the Prussian and Italian bedding comparison?”, the blond had laughed, and Philippe had joined him as they had skipped down the stairs of the terrace. “It would not have been the first time that it would have worked, mignonette.” That they had participated in more than a single threesome, especially in one with the man who had turned out to be the one to betray him to the duke of Württemberg, neither of them had adressed. “Why did you end it with Henry?”, Giacomo had changed the topic, causing the smile on the French’s face to falter, though so little that Giacomo easily could have missed it.

“What we were doing was no fair game,” Philippe had answered after a few moments of silence, most likely to consider his words. “He wanted something that I could not give him, and I wanted someone that he never could have been. So we ended it.” The pair of friends had came to a halt in front of a row of cherry trees and Giacomo had felt his heart summersaulting when he had realized that Friedrich very well could be watching them, and he had just barely refused to give in to the urge to turn around to search for him behind the windows of the palace. “But you loved him, did you not?” “Not in the way would have been apropriate. Not to mention the problem of distance.” Giacomo had nodded albeit sensing that Philippe had not told him the entire truth - if Philippe would have asked, he would have told him that he had not wanted to hear it. “I do not see how Achille has been doing it for so many years. How is he, anyway? I must write him soon.” “I have not seen him... for a few months now. As far as I know he is still in Vienna,” the frenchman had said with a shrug, and the smile on his face had grown again when Giacomo had stepped closer to lay his hand onto Philippe’s forearm. Just as Giacomo had suspected it, Friedrich had indeed watched them - not that the king of Prussia had wanted to do it, of course. Friedrich had wanted, and needed, to work on the quite impressive stack of files in front of him, but after Wilhelm had knocked on the door of his office and had announced that the French had arrived at his court, his mind had been unable to concentrate on his work. He had not known that Giacomo and de Lorraine had entered his garden, but he must had sensed it in a way; and when he had stood from behind his desk with a somewhat resignated smile to walk over to the windows in order to open them, he had frozen in mid-motion when he had spotted them on the staircase of the terrace. Both men had been walking side by side like close friends would do it, and even if he had not happened to be within earshot of them, Friedrich had still been able to tell that his lover had been laughing and amusing himself. There had been no other reason as for why Giacomo would throw his head back as often as he did, it had been somewhat of a trademark of the Italian, and the king of Prussia had smiled to himself simply from knowing that his Beloved had been enjoying himself. That he had done so with Philippe de Lorraine Friedrich had tried to ignore; while he had known that he would never grow warm around the frenchman he had no aspirations of making the situation uncomfortable for Giacomo by making him choose by whose side he wants to stand on. All he had hoped for, all that he would have prayed for if he would have had a way with God, had been that Giacomo would not see how much better he could be off with another to cherish and love him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the late update. Uni work is killing me but I hope that the length of the chapter can make up for the wait ;-)
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

_“Your Majesty is requesting my advise,” the frenchman had asked, his voice not untouched from a hint of sarcasm which, considering his stand underneath the other, had not been without risk of consequences. It had been apparent, however, that he did not care. “Indeed,” the king of Prussia had answered with a voice which had stood in a vast contrast to the other’s as it was had been rather flat and free of any hint of emotion as he had stood from where he sat behind his writing desk. “If it would not be for his sake, I would not.” The French had turned up both his nose and his chin, allowing a low snort to escape him that had turned Friedrich’s face even more into the mask that had resembled stone rather than flesh. “His sake,” the French had repeated, and every man, be it a friend or not, would have realized that there had stood more behind his words than simple disdain for the monarch alone. The king had realized it, too. “It is for his sake only that I allowed you to come here in the first place,” Friedrich had retorted, his voice no longer as distant as it had been, and he had tried to hide the fact that his hands had been trembling ever since the frenchman had stepped under his eyes by holding them folded in the small of his back. “If it would not be for his sake,” he had drawled out, taking one slow step after another until he had came to stand right in front of the French. While he could not have overpowered him by statue, he could do so with his mere posture alone. He, after all, had managed to hide the boiling anger inside of him more than just well enough. “I would have banished you from my country.” The two men had looked at each other, almost non-blinking, and much to the king’s joy it had been the frenchman who had given in first, as said man had muttered something under his breath, had taken a step back and had eyed the other with fully opened eyes instead of narrowed ones like he had done it before. “And how does... Your Majesty believe I ought to be of help?” The mask had slipped off the monarch’s face to be replaced with a triumphant and sarcastically friendly smile, “Now, that was not so hard, was it?”._

Friedrich had tried to ignore the tug in his chest when he had seen a change in his beloved Giacomo’s behaviour during the very first evening of the damned frenchman’s presence at his court. Giacomo had not needed to be asked if he would like to attend the concert - he had showed up on his own accord, much to Friedrich’s delight. Oh, he had been utterly delighted when he had answered the concert room and had found the seat, which had caused him so much grief due to the long time it had stayed empty, no longer abandoned and instead claimed by the man he loved again. Their gazes had met and they had smiled each other, but the king of Prussia’s smile had faltered, barely noticable, he had known, as he had not wanted to give Giacomo the impression that he might have done something wrong, as his eyes had fallen onto the person that had taken the seat beside the blond as if he had a right to do it. The frenchman had noticed Friedrich too, of course, as his presence really could not have been missed in the room, and had, just in the moment that the king of Prussia and his lover had found each other, leaned closer to Giacomo to speak something in his ear. Friedrich had not known what it had been that he had said, the frenchman must had dropped his voice well below a simple whisper, but it had caused Giacomo to laugh in the same endearing way that he had always done it, throwing his head back for a few seconds before turning to look at the French, breaking apart from Friedrich in the process. It would not have needed a genius to figure out that he had done it on purpose, though Friedrich had managed to somewhat forget the incident during the course of his concert. Giacomo’s eyes, as well as his entire attention had been fixed to him the whole time, like it had been ever since they had known each other - and how Friedrich had hoped it would be for the rest of his time. Sure, there were many sparkling pairs of eyes on him while he played, though none had touched him as much as those of his lover’s had. Even if it had not been possible, Friedrich had still been sure that he had been able to feel the love he had for the other rushing through his veins, accompanying his blood, making him feel a bit light-headed. Not in a bad way, of course. He had felt his own heart beating stronger than it usually would have when he had ended the last note of his final piece for the evening, continuing to hold the mouthpiece of the instrument to his lips before lowering it and smiling into the round as the guest applauded, but Giacomo’s smile, the glistering of his eyes and the faint blush on his cheeks had been worth double the applause of a thousand others. The room had thinned out rather fast after that, with most courtiers returning to the salon or elsewhere, and Friedrich had tried not to snarl when he had been forced to stand by and watch how Philippe spend a good few more minutes talking to Giacomo, both men obviously enjoying themselves. “Stop it,” he had heard his lover laugh. “If you say so, mon beau.” _Mon beau._ Friedrich had felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach, and it had not recovered until Giacomo had made a waving gesture towards the frenchman, who had taken the hint and had left.

“You played so beautifully,” Giacomo had spoken, his tone low and gentle, once he had reached Friedrich, who had wasted no time before he pulled him into his arms. “You have no idea how much you saying that means to me,” the king of Prussia had whispered against the soft skin of Giacomo’s neck, after having hid his face in its crook. His heart had somewhat calmed when he had been reassured that his lover had still smelled like the bath oil that Friedrich had gifted him at the very beginning of their relationship. He had rebought it multiple times, of course he had, and to him it had been incredibly touching to him that Giacomo had still been using it after all the time and all the horrors that he had went through. Neither of the two men had spoken much as they had held onto each other much like life lines, and Giacomo had eventually rested the side of his face against Friedrich’s chest when the other had drove his fingers into his long and soft curls. _He was so lucky, so blessed_ , Friedrich had realized, something he must had done at least a hundred times ever since they had returned to Sanssouci, but no matter how often he would realize it, its intensity would not cease. He had not needed to urge Giacomo to raise his face, as it had been the younger man who had eventually cupped Friedrich’s face and had pulled him down into a searing kiss. Friedrich’s hands had found their way out of Giacomo’s hair and down the curve of his back until they had came to rest on his sides, almost on their own accord, taking their place there as if they had been made for it. They fit perfectly into the slight dip of his waist, which had been a lot more comfortable to touch ever since Giacomo had began to put on at least some of the weight that he had lost during his unjustified and cruel imprisonment back. He had been visited by Friedrich’s private physician at least once a week, no matter how many times Giacomo would claim and try to argue that it had been “most unnecessary”. “How lucky I am,” Giacomo had whispered against Friedrich’s lips and he had kissed him once more, though much shorter, before he had burrowed in against the older man’s chest, closing his arms around his middle and the smile on the king of Prussia’s face had grown almost impossibly wide. “You and lucky? Someone should ask me, Sanssouci,” Friedrich retorted with a chuckle in his voice as he leaned down to haste a kiss into the crown of Giacomo’s hair. “If anyone on this earth is lucky, it is me.” The younger man had snorted and had shaken his head as much as he had been possible to do it without having to pull away, but Friedrich had known that his face had been gaining color when Giacomo had began to fumble at the fabric of his blouse. “I love you.” Friedrich had ran a hand up his lover’s back to gently drive his fingers through the soft hair he had found there in a continuous motion, “I love you too, Liebling.” He would have liked to hold him longer, but it would not be long until the servants would come to tidy the room and he had not wanted to come over as too clingy - which he had not been. “You will be working late tonight, will you not?” “Yes, love,” Friedrich had brushed a strand of hair behind Giacomo’s hair, “I apologize -” “Do not be, Friedrich, I know that you have no choice. And I will not be alone.” While he had known that Giacomo had not meant it in _that_ way, there still had been a hot flash of jealousy going through him.

The king of Prussia had sighed, his shoulders slumping when the jealousy had left him as rapidly as it had boiled up at him when Giacomo had smiled at him. It had been most unfair to his Giacomo, his beloved Giacomo, that he had been doubting his heart - no, it had not been the possibility for doubt that had tortured Friedrich. It had been the sheer fear of, maybe, not being able to do more than stand by and watch his Giacomo being courted and claimed by another, and just like every time when he had been swept away with a wave of said feelings, his lover had seemed to notice it. “Believe me when I say that there is no one -” “Hush, Liebling,” Friedrich had cut him off, though gentle and without any real bite while his eyes had roamed over Giacomo’s face as if trying to find a detail that he had missed. Impossible, considering the hours, if not days, he had spend looking at him. “But -” He had kissed him, hard and demanding like he had wanted to prove a point, but he would not have done so if he would not have known that his Giacomo had consented. “No ’but’s, Liebling. I do trust your words and your heart, I always will. It is others that I do not trust.” Giacomo had, of course, known that by others Friedrich had meant Philippe, and... he had not been able to blame him. Philippe loved him beyond the boundaries of friendship, even a close one, and Giacomo had his own reasons for not having told Friedrich of his most recent confession of love, because while _he_ had known that he could never love another like he had loved Friedrich, the other may believe him, yes, but Friedrich’s self-confidence issues had been much too great. “Can you promise me something?” “What would it be that I ought to promise, Liebling?” “That you will not leave me in bed alone for too long tonight.” Friedrich had smiled and had reached for one of Giacomo’s hands, “It is a promise.” “Thank you.” Giacomo had kissed him again, their lips lingering on their counterpart, and Friedrich had only then let go of his hand, thus enabling him to walk off. The king of Prussia had raised his fingers to touch his lips as he had watched Giacomo cross through the room, though letting his hand fall once he had realized what he had been doing. It had been kitschy and much rather would have fit to a youth experiencing his first love, though if someone would have asked him and if he would have answered with honesty, he would have said that he had not cared. If there had been anything that had pained him in that moment, as he had stood in the middle of his concert hall, it had been the fact that he had been forced to wait over three decades to have Giacomo in his life. So many years that had flown by him without him even noticing them, so many nights that he had spend awake and in front of the oil painting that, for those three decades, had been his uttermost priced possession, night and even days that Friedrich had lived through, trying to imagine how his life would be if he had someone that he could love, and more importantly: if someone would be there to love him back. His sister, Wilhelmine, had always been somewhat of a rock in his life. Ever since he had been a child, and vulnerable to their father’s abuse, it had been her who had comforted him and who had tried to guide him through the most darkest of his times. She had been the one who had hindered him from his planned attempt of flight from Dresden, and she had also been the one who had suffered the consequences. Even to that day Friedrich had never forgotten how bruised her face had been when he had first seen her again.

They had stayed close over the years, both siblings sharing the fate of an unhappy and forced marriage. And just his beloved Hans, his dearly beloved sister had met the fate of death way too early. They had not seen each other for four years when she had died, suddenly and the same day that he had lost the battle of Hochkirch and another close friend of his, James Keith. Friedrich had lost so many people in his life - most of them to death, and he had already given up the hope of finding happiness in his later years when Giacomo had appeared. Giacomo, who very well could have been send by God if there had only been one _(- > Friedrich detested religion, most likely due to the religious fanatism that Friedrich Wilhelm had forced onto his children (especially young Fritz as his heir to the throne))_ and who had brought so much love into his life, who had shown him what he had missed and who had made it obvious that even his mind had not been enough to imagine how much better his life would be with the Italian at his side. Friedrich had exhaled somewhat shakingly and had allowed his eyes to fall close for a moment before he had straightened himself and had set into motion, the servants entering the room as soon as he had left it en route for his study. While Friedrich had disappeared from the public eye, Giacomo had stepped into its gaze. Before Philippe had left, the frenchman had whispered that he would be in the salon if Giacomo would want ot meet with him and Giacomo had wanted to, of course. At least until Friedrich would be free, as he the prospect of having to linger in their chamber all by himself had not been a pleasant one. When he had entered the salon, there had not been as many courtiers present as he had expected. A group of younger men had been seated at the round gaming table in the far back of the room while a larger group of significantly older men, probably ministers and high-ranking military officers, being involved in a conversation. “Mignonette!” Ah, there he had been. Philippe had halfway stood up from where he had been sitting at a table designated for merely two people, waving at Giacomo. “It took you longer than I had expected - did you get lost on the way?”, the frenchman had teased Giacomo as the latter had taken a seat in the only free chair at the table and had shot his friend a playfully dark look. “Saint-Cloud has a few more rooms than Sanssouci, you know,” he had retorted, though had joined in to Philippe’s laughter after the French had winked at him. To be fair: it had been quite the funny occasion when he had managed to get lost in the château after having had a pitcher of wine too many. “Would you like a drink, mignonette?” “Yes please.” Philippe had acknowledged Giacomo’s answer with a smile and a quick nod, turning in his chair to beckon one of the manservants over to their table. “A pitcher of the best red His Majesty has to offer.” “It will be right up, Monsieur.” Giacomo had been about to make a comment about how Philippe would probably be charged more than usual, considering Friedrich’s disdain for him, but had decided to swallow it down; if anyone at this court would be able to pay it had been Philippe. “How are you enjoying your stay so far?” The frenchman had tilted his head and had leaned back into his chair to be able to get a better look at Giacomo, who had not even needed to search his gaze to find the love in it.

“I am here with you, mignonette. My stay could not be better.” His eyes had shifted away from Philippe’s face to a spot somewhere beside his head, as Giacomo had not been able to supress a remorse for the fact that he had not been in the position to love his friend in the same way that Philippe had all so obviously loved him - though it had also been him who had the greatest struggle with it. “Albeit I yet have to find a pretty face that will keep me accompanied in bed.” He had scolded him out of reflex rather than with a real intention, “Philippe!”, while the other had laughed heartedly. “What, mignonette? You asked.” The manservant had returned, carrying the requested pitcher or the rich dark red liquid and two glasses on a tablet and placing them on the table between the two men before disappearing yet again. Philippe had taken the pitched and filled Giacomo’s, then his own glass. “I think I know someone who could be willing to warm your bed,” Giacomo had chirped over the rim of his glass, taking a first sip. He had made a low sound of appreciation when it had turned out to be quite an excellent grape; with the sickness of his stomach he had been forced to take to boiled water or watered-down beer instead, which had both been horrible options. “Oh?” Philippe’s attention had obviously been spiked at that, as the frenchman had sat up a bit straighter and there had been an obvious glimmer in his eyes. “Yes.” “ _Allez dis moi_ , mignonette,” Philippe had almost whined, not caring that Giacomo would know how needy he had been for a game between the sheets. “Come on, do not be cruel.” Giacomo had taken another small sip from the wine and had made an exagerated gesture of leaning over to put the glass down, his lips curling into a teasing smile, “His Majesty’s younger brother, Prince Heinrich. I have been told that he favours male counterparts just as much as His Majesty does.” The frenchman had made an indefinable groan and covered his face with both of his hands for a moment before he moved them over it with another groan which had send Giacomo into laughter, and the Italian had tried to stiffle his laughter only when Philipp had shot him a tale-telling look. Not very successfully, though. “You have crushed my hope, mignonette. What is so funny about that?” Giacomo had pressed his lips together as if he had tried to stop himself from speaking out the words that had been already resting on the tip of his tongue, reaching for his glass instead. “Giacomo,” the frenchman had pressed on, but Giacomo had been very much able to see that he had been forcing his own grin down. “It is not funny, I... merely thought that you would like to... stay in the family.” “ _Bon Dieu, mignonette, arrête ça!_ ” Philippe must had been embarassed, or maybe enraged enough to fall back into his mothertongue without being aware of it. “Alright, alright,” Giacomo had raised both of his hands in front of him, “I will stop now.” “Thank you,” Philippe brought out, his face a shade of red that Giacomo had rarely ever seen on him. He had indeed stopped, considering that they had not been alone and not very eager to pull the other courtier’s attention onto them, and Giacomo had laid his hand ontop of Philippe’s, which had been resting on the table beside his glass, for a few long moments, squeezing it once before pulling his away. Giacomo had known very well how much Philippe had always tried to overplay and hide behind his set-up, arrogant behaviour. “Has... _His Majesty_ said anything regarding out friendship?” “No,” he had answered without thinking twice. “All he said was that it is my choice who I am in contact with.”

“He is jealous,” Philippe had said, changing the topic of their conversation, and Giacomo had needed to truly force himself to stop from sighing out loud. It had been getting somewhat bothersome, having to hear about either his lover of his close friend every time he would spend time with the either of them. “You cannot blame him.” The frenchman had nodded slowly as he had inspected the content of his glass, a shadow flashing over his face, “No, I cannot.” Giacomo had cleared his throat before he had opened his mouth, closing it and opening it once more before he had actually managed to bring a sound out. “Could we change the topic? Please, I just...” “Of course, mignonette. I apologize.” The two friends had fallen into silence after that short exchange, and Giacomo had swirled his wine around as he had listened to the chuckled laughters of the men who had been conversing in the salon, too. The silence, however, had been broken when their gazes had met - causing them to smile at the same time and lifting the heavy air that had hovered over their heads. “Ah, mignonette,” Philippe had said, reaching out to take the pincher and fill his already empty glass anew. “How things have changed.” “They have indeed.” “Do you wish that they had not? Just sometimes?” Giacomo had not expected it to, but Philipp’s question had thrown him off his tracks. _Did he wish for that? And if so, at what turning point? When they had broken up and when he had fled to France after Friedrich had been drugged and had lashed out at him? When he had decided whether or not he should answer to the letter that he had gotten from Friedrich? When he had decided to set out for Venice after having heart of his mother’s death? Or... when he had stood at the opened window if his room in Solitude Palace and had contemplated whether or not he should climb out onto the windowsill and jump down, simply to have his misery ended?_ “I...”, Giacomo had began, though trailing off without completing his sentence. He had not known the answer. “I do not know.” “Oh.” Philippe’s reaction had made it clear that he had expected either a “Yes” or a “No”, but Giacomo had dismissed any further attempt of questioning with a simple wave of his hand and Philippe had, self-evidenly, obeyed his wish. “It is quite alright, I understand.” He had no doubt that his friend truly had: considering that Friedrich had arrested him with the clear goals of having him executed not too long ago. “Thank you,” Giacomo had said instead, reaching for his glass. “For being here.” “There is no need for you to thank me, Giacomo.” “Yet I want to.” Philippe had not answered, not verbally at least, but had raised his glass for a silent toast, which Giacomo had joined. Their glasses had clinked together, sending a high note into the air around them, and for the rest of the time they had spend together, their moods had been considerably lifted - quite opposite of the king of Prussia’s, who had forced himself to read through the stack of files he had placed on the table beside him. While his eyes had moved over the written words, and while his brain had acknowledged what each parchment had contained before he had set his signature underneath them, his mind had been elsewhere.

He had wanted to do something good for Giacomo, had wanted to gift him with something that the younger deserved - not for a special occasion, simply because Friedrich had felt the need to. Though the king of Prussia had been at an absolute loss when it had came to the question of “What” as in his eyes, there had been nothing that he yet had to gift his beloved Giacomo with. Books, clothing, art and a dog - Friedrich had aquired it all for him and he had direly wanted to come up with something new. His Giacomo had deserved it, oh he had deserved the world. He had sighed when he had set yet another signature at the bottom of an official document and had closed yet another file, throwing rather than setting it down onto the second stack or finished files. He had known that he had needed to do something for him, _anything_ , and considering the ways that he had known Giacomo, it had not even needed to be of materialistic nature... merely something that would show him how much he had been appreciated, and as much as Friedrich had detested the idea, he had also known that he would eventually need to correspodend with the de Lorraine about it. The king of Prussia had sighed wearily as he had leaned back into his chair, feeling weariness creeping up at him which had caused his eyelids to grow heavy and his longing of being close to his Giacomo to get even stronger. It could have been scary, and maybe it had been from some point of view, but he truly had believed that he could only be whole as a person if Giacomo would never leave him again - he would never force him, of course he would not; if Giacomo would decide that he, for example, would like to leave Potsdam for Saint-Cloud, Friedrich would have to accept it. If he would survive it had been an entire different question, but he would be left with no other choice than to accept Giacomo’s decision. While it had been an absolutely frightening prospect, it had triggered yet another thought to flash across Friedrich’s mind; a thought which had absentmindedly made him sit up a bit straighter. _If you want him to stay, you must give him a home._ He had lingered on the thought of a bit before he had snapped out of it and had hurried to grab a new piece of parchment, as if he had been scared of loosing the thought he just had. _If you want him to stay, you must give him a home_ Friedrich had scribbled down before folding up the parchment and putting it into one of hispockets of his waistcoat, shaking his head at himself for having taken so long to come up with something so obvious. A home. With the certainty that there could, and would be something for him to surprise his beloved Giacomo with, Friedrich had managed to work through the remaining files with more vigor than before. By the time the second pitcher had been brought to their table, the air between Giacomo and Philippe had been as light-hearted it probably could have been, despite the fact that Giacomo had still been on his third glass still - he may not have admitted it, but he had been somewhatt scared of getting drunk, as he had not known what memories it could trigger. “You will never let me live it down, will you?” The frenchman had answered with a loopsided grin and a laughed “No”, to which Giacomo himself had responded with a shake of his head. He had already been laughing, oh he had been laughing for a the majority of the time that they had spend sitting in the salon, that had since became more and more frequently visited.

“Philippe?” “Yes, mignonette?” “Would you be disappointed if I would say that I would like to retire for the night?” While he had a good time, and had enjoyed himself in a way that he had not done it in a long time, he had been close to the point of exhaustion. Giacomo had been sure that Philippe had not missed the way he had flinched involuntarily every time that a roaring laugh would reach them. “No no,” the frenchman had hurried to answer, setting the glass he had been holding down onto the table in front of him, “of course not, mignonette.” Philippe’s face had been a proof of the fact that he had not been lying - not that Giacomo had expected him to, and he had nodded as he had discarded his own glass. He had pushed his chair back, not really surprised to see that his friend had been in the process of standing up himself, a quick smile spreading out over his face when he had realized that. He had been so glad to have found a friend like him. “I will accompany you to your chamber,” Philippe had stated, not asked, and Giacomo had not argued; why would he have argued? “Alright.” He had been very much aware of how many pairs of eyes had came to rest on him when he, Philippe at his side, had walked through the salon. If Philippe had heard him exhale once the double-winged door of the salon had fallen shut behind them, the frenchman had not mentioned it, instead merely asking if Giacomo had been alright, which the latter had confirmed with a low “Yes”. He could have found his way to the room he had shared with Friedrich blindly, and his heart had summersaulted when he had wondered about whether or not Friedrich had already finished with his work; he had felt the sudden desire to get close to him, closer than he had allowed it ever since he had been freed from his imprisonment. “Mignonette?” Giacomo had blinked hard, not having realized that he had gotten somewhat lost in his thoughts, and he had turned halfway towards Philippe, who had eyed him with an unreadable expression ever since they had made halt in the royal wing. “Would it be... alright for me to hug you?” He had smiled, touched by the almost shy way Philippe had asked. It had been so different from the French’s usual behaviour, and it had no eased the feeling of remore he had for not being able to return the love his friend had harboured for him. “Of course, yes,” Giacomo said, a warm smile on his face and standing still when Philippe had stepped closer and had pulled him into an embrace. Philippe had held him differently than Friedrich would have done it, had truly only closed his arms around him - there had been no fingers in his hair and no hand in the small of his back. “I love you, Giacomo.” The blond had closed his eyes as he had brough both hands of his up to splay them in the space between his friend’s shoulder blades, feeling at the slightly protruding bones he had found there. “I know.” “Thank you for not pushing me away because of...” Philippe had trailed off, but Giacomo had understood him nonetheless. “I would never,” he had whispered, “not because of the way you feel. As long as you are not unhappy -” Philippe had hugged him tighter, as if to shush him. “Like I have said: a pretty face is all that is missing.” “I am sure that you will find one.”

“I must in order for my wrist to not go sore.” “Philippe!” Giacomo had pulled away from the embrace, though the look of shock on his face had been a fake one. It would have been somewhat ridiculous for him to scold his friend, considering that he was Giacomo Casanova. “I am merely telling you how it is, _mon beau_. If I will not find one soon I might just visit Rheinsberg for a few days.” “Do not let him hear that.” Giacomo had rolled his eyes, but had smiled at Philippe as he had turned towards the door which had lead to the royal sleeping chamber. “Good night, Philippe.” “Good night, mignonette. I will see you tomorrow.” He had waited until Philippe had disappeared around the corner before he had reached for the knob of the door, though why he had done so, he had not known. Giacomo had tried to not let the disappointment touch him when he had found the room as empty as he had expected it to be, Friedrich had told him that he would be working late. He had sighed, maybe a bit wearily, and had closed the door behind him, already pulling his blouse over his head when he had crossed the room. It had not been as late as it could have been - it had barely been past ten as a quick look at the grandfather’s clock had told him - and since he had known that Friedrich could very well be working until one, trying to stay awake would have been futile. Giacomo had opened and kicked off trousers as well, leaving him dressed in nothing but his undergarnment, before he had stepped infront of the mirror and reached for the cloth which one of the manservants must had brought in earlier that day to wash the makeup off his face. It had been a peaceful routine, and Giacomo had enjoyed it more than he had ever done it before. He had since learned to appreciate the small and seemingly insignificant aspects of life, as he had known how easily they could be out of reach and how painful it was to lose them. That he would never be able to forget it, to forget him and his actions, Giacomo had not been willing to let it play the main part in his future life, not when Friedrich had still been there with him. Ever since they had shared the... quite embarassing and yet somehow incredibly hot incident of coming in their pants like unexperienced teenagers while rutting in Friedrich’s study, Giacomo had began to notice change in the way that he had watched the older man and how different his touches had felt. Friedrich had never projected pressure of any kind onto him, he never had, something which had touched Giacomo more than the other might have expected it to. Giacomo had known how insatiable Friedrich’s libido could be, and for him to have gone without it for so long... If he would have known in what direction Giacomo’s thoughts had gone in that moment he probably would have scolded him with the gentle but no-nonsense tone that he had always done it with. No, Friedrich would never pressure him to give in to any sexual act, but it had been _him_ who had been willing to try it again. Giacomo had sighed and shaken his head at his own thinking as he had wrung out the cloth for the last time and had hung it over the edge of the basin. He had eyed his nightshirt, which had been spread out over his side of the king-sized bed, and had lingered in his thoughts for a few moments until he, with a small grin, had decided to take off his undergarnments, too, before sliding under the cover. As his side of the bed had been the one closest to the door, he had rolled onto his side in order to let his face be turned towards said door - hoping that the beam of light, which would fall in when Friedrich would enter, would wake him.

The king of Prussia had tried not to wince when he had stood from where he had been sitting behind his writing desk for the majority of the evening hours. At least he had managed to get all of his required duty done, meaning that he would not have to wake up too early the next morning - thus able to spend more precious time with his Liebling. The thought about him had been enough to make him smile to himself as he had tidied his desk a bit, putting the ink pot and his quill back into their designated stands before he had pushed the chair back and extinguished the candle. Judging by the time of night, Giacomo would most likely no longer be awake, so Friedrich had tried to be as quiet as he only could have been when he opened the door to his rooms. There he had been, his Giacomo. Turned towards him and obviously asleep, with the blanket pulled up to his nose, the blond had been an almost pittoresque sight of peace and Friedrich had felt the familiar tugging in his chest when he had taken him in. For a few seconds at least, until he had realized that he should probably close the door unless he was eager to wake him. The king of Prussia had taken off his shoes before moving through the room on tip-toes, taking his nightdress and disappearing into the adjoined room which had acted as both a dressing and a bathroom. The royal staff had since noticed that Friedrich would, when it would come to Monsieur Casanova, break protocol as if it was nothing. Wilhelm had offered yet again to help him undress when the king and the valet had crossed path a few minutes ago, but Friedrich had declined. He had tried to hurry with getting out of his clothing, making sure that he had saved the folded piece of parchment he had put into the pocket of his waitscoat earlier that evening, taking off his wig, loosening up his hair and washing the powder off his face. Friedrich had frozen in mid-motion when he had thought to have heared a sound coming from the main chamber, hoping that he had not woken Giacomo up by somehow having been too loud. Collecting his discarded clothes off the floor he had opened the door of the smaller room, feeling his heart tumble when he had been greeted with the sight of Giacomo sitting on the edge of their bed, legs dangling over its edge. It had seemed as if the covers, which had fallen into his lap, had been the only piece of fabric that had been on his lover. “Oh Liebling, did I wake you?” He had dumped the heap of clothes onto one of the decorative chairs before he had hurried to get to Giacomo’s side, his initial fear of the younger having suffered through a nightmare dissolving when Giacomo had looked up at him with a glimmer in his eyes that had spoken of joy rather than panic. “You did not wake me.” Once he had reached the bed, however, Friedrich had stood in front of his lover instead of sitting down beside him, taking Giacomo’s face into both of his hands and leaning down to kiss him on those curved, inviting lips. “I missed you greatly, Sanssouci.” Giacomo had made an approving humming sound against the other’s lips and had held onto Friedrich’s upper arms as his head had been tilted back a bit more to perfectionize the angle of their kiss. Friedrich may had been a bit taken aback by the heat that Giacomo had kissed him back with at first, though the feeling of surprise had soon been replaced by the hot rush of want that had seemed to have projected into his whole body from where their lips had touched.

Neither had any idea for how long they had stayed like this; Friedrich keeping Giacomo’s face safely cupped in his hands while they had kissed, their tongues participating in a gentle battle for dominance which they both had known Giacomo would lose. He had always lost, but neither had seemed to have a problem with it. The younger man’s breath had hitched when Friedrich had abandoned his lips in order to place a row of kisses from the corner of his mouth down to the spot under Giacomo’s neck which he had known had been especially sensitive. “I love you,” Friedrich had whispered, kissing his lover’s sinfully enticing lips once again. “Friedrich?” He had answered to Giacomo’s breathed out question with an approving sound, and when the younger had answered he had been sure that his knees had turned weak in the split of a second. “Will you take me?” Friedrich had pulled back, thus discarding his task of kissing him, to be able to get a look at Giacomo. “Liebling...”, he had whispered, gently brushing the pads of his thumbs over the soft skin of Giacomo’s cheek as blue eyes locked with brown. “If you think that you need to do it because of me -” “No.” Giacomo’s voice had been determined when he had cut him off, and no matter how hard he had tried to find it, there had been not an ounce of doubt or fear behind those warm eyes. Instead of answering verbally Friedrich had kissed him, harder than he had done it before, though only for a short moment before he had looked at him again. Oh, there had already been straining below his nightshirt but he had wanted to be sure, had wanted to rule out the possibility of Giacomo offering it because he had believed that Friedrich had needed it. “I want you to know that you do not have to do it when it comes to me, Liebling.” He had not known why, but he had needed to swallow down his suddenly too tight and dry throat as he had taken in the face he had loved so much; his heart had already been racing, he had been able to feel it in his throat, and when Giacomo had raised a bit to capture his lips anew, Friedrich had stopped doubting. _Despite everything that had happened... he had still wanted to try it with him._ There had been a pair of greedy hands driving into the wide neckline of his nightdress and he had parted from Giacomo only long enough to pull it over his head, throwing it onto the floor beside him before hurrying to climb onto the bed. Giacomo had never taken his eyes off Friedrich as he had shuffled backwards to give the other the place he had needed and Friedrich had felt another hot wave move through him when Giacomo’s lip had came out to lick across his lower lip before he had pulled it between his teeth - he had still been a tease. “The things you are doing to me,” the king of Prussia had very well growled as he had been towering above Giacomo, whose hair had spread around him on the pillow as if it had been his halo, and when he had kissed him, he had not asked for permission before he had pushed his tongue past Giacomo’s. He could not have read the situation wrong, and not only because of the shine that had been in the younger’s eyes - Friedrich had already felt his erected cock against his stomach.

“Liebling,” Friedrich had breathed into their current kiss as he had, heavily leaned onto one arm, reached down to enclose the base of Giacomo’s cock with two fingers, grinning when the younger had bucked and whimpered at the simple touch. “Do you have something to -” He had not even needed to finish his sentence before Giacomo had reached underneath his pillow to retrieve a vial, passing it to Friedrich who had since let go of his member to take it. The older man had cocked an eyebrow, “You _planned_ this?”. Giacomo had snorted and had rolled his eyes in a way that Friedrich had known had meant to be exaggerated as he had lolled on the mattress beneath the older, obviously trying to tease and Friedrich’s heart surely would have jumped out of his chest if it only could have. “I hoped that it would come to this, actually.” _He had him back_. “Of course you did,” Friedrich had chuckled, leaning down to kiss down the side of Giacomo’s neck instead. He had made sure to leave no bruises, believing that it would not be to either of their favor, though he had paid extra attention to the spots which he had known had been sensitive and when Giacomo had drove his fingers into his hair, Friedrich had known that he had been doing the right thing. His lips roamed over skin that they had not touched for so long, _for too long_ , though he had stopped, almost freezing, when he had scooted down enough for his face to be on the level of Giacomo’s chest. The scar. It had healed over nicely, indeed it had, but the light pink change in tissue had stretched out widely right across the middle of his lover’s chest. “Friedrich?” He had snapped out of it when Giacomo’s uncertain question had reached him, and he had hurried to move up and kiss him properly. “Do not be ashamed of it,” he had whispered, twirling a strand of blond hair around his index finger. He, after all, had known what he had been talking about. “But it is... hideous,” Giacomo had retorted, almost meekly, and Friedrich had felt a stab in his chest when he had turned his face away, his eyes closed. “No no no, Sanssouci - Liebling, Giacomo look at me.” He had clenched his jaw as he had waited for an reaction, and when Giacomo had indeed obeyed his gentle order, his eyes had been overdrawn with a thin film of tears. “It is not hideous, Sanssouci. It is a part of you now, and nothing about you could ever be hideous.” Giacomo had nodded and sniffled once and just when Friedrich had began to believe that the moment had been over, he had been pulled down into another hungry kiss which had been accompanied with a circling movement of Giacomo’s hips. “Are you so eager for me, Liebling?” “Please,” the younger had whimpered and oh, Friedrich had never been able to deny him something once he had said “Please”. He had kissed him on the lips one more time before scooting back down, kissing the dips of his collarbones before paying closer attention to his erected nipples, allowing himself to chuckle softly at the way that Giacomo’s upper body had arched into his touches. _Nothing had changed_. He had stayed allerted when he had no more than hasted a kiss onto the edge of the scar. Karl Eugen must had used a sharp knife, for its edged had been straight and without any jagged tissue - meaning that Giacomo would at least be spared of the pains that Friedrich had to suffer from the array of scars on his own chest. He kissed around its edge, aware of how sensitive Giacomo would be there.

He had not known when they had ever spend so much time preparing for even the first real step of preparation, but Friedrich had not thought about it. They had both needed it, his beloved Giacomo even more so than he had. After having paid equal attention to Giacomo’s other nipple Friedrich had wasted no time to move down towards his stomach, kissing around his belly button before following the thin trail of blond hair he had found there. The closer Friedrich had gotten to Giacomo’s private parts, the louder and more desperate Giacomo’s whimpers and gasps had seemed to become and to the king of Prussia, they had been better than any piece of music he had ever heard or written himself. _Too long_. “Do you want to stay on your back or do you want to roll over, Sanssouci?” Giacomo had rolled over onto his stomach within a second and Friedrich had reached out to take one of the pillows and put it underneath his lover’s raised hips. “Tell me if you change your mind, will you?”, he had spoken low, running a hand over the curve of Giacomo’s back after he had moved to kneel between his spread. “I will,” had been the answer. “But I will not change my mind.” Friedrich had smiled and had leaned down to kiss a spot in the small of his back, “I still want you to know that I will stop of you wish me to, Sanssouci.” Giacomo had nodded and had crossed his arms to rest his cheek onto them, arching his back a bit more, and Friedrich had needed to take a moment of pause and admire the sight he had been gifted with. He had tried to not think about the last time that Giacomo had been vulnerable like that, and especially not about how he must have felt. “How beautiful you are,” he had said, his tone low and soft, removing his hand from Giacomo’s back to open the vial with his left and pour some of its content over the index and middle finger of his right hand. It had been an endearing sight to see the blush spreading out over his lover’s skin. _Nothing had changed_. It had not only been Giacomo who had held his breath when the first, oiled-up finger had breached into him. Friedrich’s hand had placed itself back into the small of Giacomo’s back, his thumb stroking in a continuous motion as he moved his digit carefully. “Are you alright, Liebling?” The younger man had let the breath he had been holding in out with a huff, nodding, and it had only been when Friedrich had felt him unclench around him that he had allowed the second finger to join the first, using just the slighest of strength as he had scissored them apart while searching for his spot. He had not needed to look for long - he had never forgotten it - and his memory had been rewarded by Giacomo’s high-pitched moan once he had pressed down onto it. “There we are, Liebling,” he had chuckled, leaning down to kiss one of his lover’s backside cheek while he had worked his fingers, eventually removing his hand from the small of his back to knead Giacomo’s other cheek. “Friedrich, _please_...”, Giacomo had gasped and mewled, pushing his ass back furthere while his hand had been scrambling for a hold on the satin bedspread. “I am right here, love.” Friedrich had kissed the soft flesh and had scissored his finger one more time before he had pulled them out with an obscene squelch.

After having reached for the vial yet again and pouring a considerable amount of the oil into his palm, Friedrich had worked the lube over his fully erected cock. The touch of his own hand had nearly been enough to push him over the edge, and he had needed to clench its base before he had even managed to think about doing anything else. He had not wanted to come the second after entering Giacomo, but it had been inevitable that he would not last long. _Too long_. Instead of moving forwards Friedrich had taken Giacomo by the hips and had pulled him backwards, though the younger raising onto his knees and into the perfect face down position had not been something he had expected. He had went with it, of course he had, and had raised up himself. He would have liked to kiss Giacomo’s lips, but since the position had not allowed it he had to be satisfied with kissing the space between his shoulder blades. “Are you -” “I will not be if you will not fuck me right now,” Giacomo had cut him off; Friedrich could not have done without throwing his head back to laugh openly. God, how he had loved him. “Your wish is my command.” He had used his thumbs to spread Giacomo’s cheeks apart and reveal his loosened entrance before taking one hand away in order to lead the head of his cock until it had been aligned with the muscle. A strangled sound had escaped him when he had pushed in, just the tip at first, the warmth and tightness already overwhelming. Knowing that Giacomo had always adjusted the best when he would keep moving he had pushed in, slowly but steady, until his pelvis had came to rest against Giacomo’s backside. “Sanssouci...” The younger’s breath had hitched and he had crossed and uncrossed his arms before he had eventually raised onto his forearms. Friedrich had waited until Giacomo had found the position the had been comfortable, all while stroking his back and whispering sweet words of love. He may not have known it, but it had been that aspect which had enabled Giacomo to truly distance Karl Eugen from Friedrich, his Friedrich. The duke had never waited, had never prepared him and had never cared about whether or not he had been comfortable and it had only been once he had heard the whispered confessions of love and appreciation from Friedrich that Giacomo had been able to give himself fully into the current pleasure. “I love you,” he had managed to bring out, words that Friedrich had taken as his hint to start moving. He had pulled out one slow inch after another before moving in just as slowly, listening to Giacomo’s moans and making sure that had not been too rough. There would be another time for fucking, for claiming him - lovemaking had been so much more precious. Friedrich had sped up his movements once Giacomo had given him the sign in form of a clear nod, for the younger had been unable to get a coherent sentence out, keeping his hands on Giacomo’s hips as he settled into a rhythm that would not overwhelm the younger. The sound of slickness and of skin hitting skin had filled the room as their shadows had played on the walls, and Friedrich had eventually found a postion where he had been able to fuck into him while holding his hand at the same time. It had not been very comfortable, for him at least, but he could not have cared less.

The knuckles of their hands had stood out in a stark white from the strength that they had both used to grasp at their counterparts and Friedrich had wished that he would have been able to do everything at the same time: to drive his fingers into Giacomo’s hair and to kiss him, to hold him close and touch the skin that he had not felt in a long time. When he had reached around his lover and had found his cock wet at the tip, he had known that Giacomo had been just as close as he himself had been. It could have been considered somewhat of a miracle that he had lasted as long as he had, and Friedrich had fucked into him a couple more times, pushing the length of his cock against and over his sensitive spot, before he had came hard enough for his sensed to fail for a split second after the younger had clenched around him, releasing himself into his lover who had followed him over the edge after Friedrich had fondled his cock at its base. Giacomo had came with a sound that had blended borders with both a moan and a sob, his arms refusing to keep him up any longer and thus sinking down, face first, into the pillow while his body had sank down onto the mattress once Friedrich had pulled his softening cock out of him. The two men had laid next to each other in utter silence for a good while, as they had both been somewhat overwhelmed by the waves of their orgasms that they had rode. It had been Friedrich who had first found his voice again. “Sanssouci,” he had rasped out, lifting his arm enough to burry his fingers into Giacomo’s hair. The younger had still held his face firmly hidden in the depths of the pillow while his back had been both heaving and trembling and Friedrich had felt something tugging in his chest, quite painfully so. _How close he had came to losing him..._ “Liebling,” he had tried again, and this time Giacomo had moved, shifting and clenched his backside in a way which had told Friedrich that he must have felt his release leaving him. “I will be right back.” Standing up had been a more difficult task than he had expected it to be, as his legs had felt like he had not used them in weeks, but he had eventually managed to move into the adjoined room to soak a new cloth in luke warm water, wring it out and walk back to the bed, sitting down beside Giacomo. The blond had still hid his face in the pillow, and it would have been a lie if Friedrich would have said that he had not began to grow nervous. “Giacomo?” Some more shuffling, and the younger man had indeed lifted his head and looked at Friedrich, whose throat had dried up when he had seen that his eyes had been tear-filled. “Did I hurt -” “No,” Giacomo had answered even before he could have finished his sentence, reaching out to grasp at one of Friedrich’s hands. “You were perfect.” A smile had grown on the younger’s face, one that Friedrich never would have been able to not answer to with one of his own. “Lie down with me.” “I will, Sanssouci, I merely wanted to clean you.” Giacomo had nodded and Friedrich had spread his cheeks apart once more, then with the thumb and index finger of his free hand, to wipe his release away. He had not bothered with more than throwing the cloth to the floor before had climbed over his lover and had plopped down beside him, pulling him into his arms and eventually onto his chest.

“I love you so much, Giacomo,” Friedrich had whispered where he had nuzzled his nose into the slightly messed-up crown of Giacomo’s hair as the man he had loved had cuddled up to him, laying one legs over his own and one arm loosely over Friedrich’s chest. “You are my life, my everything. Without you...” He had shaken his head, unable to complete the sentence he had resting on his tongue as the post-orgasm emotions had threatened to strangle him, but he had known that Giacomo had been able to understand him anyway. “I love you too,” Giacomo had whispered, and Friedrich had tightened the hold he had on him with one of his arms. _If you want him to stay, you must give him a home._ “I will give you a home right here, Liebling, so you will never have to leave me again.” “Leave you? Friedrich -” “Not like that.” Friedrich had kissed his forehead as Giacomo had lifted his head to look at him with wide eyes, “I just wish to give you a home.” “What do you mean?” “You will see, Liebling.” The younger man had nodded and settled back down to pillow his head on Friedrich’s chest, his fingers returning to their task of moving across the scars like they had done it countless of times. The king of Prussia had closed his eyes, overcome by tiredness and the longing for the touches to last forever, so deeply in his thoughts that he had missed what Giacomo had just whispered. “... up now.” “I apologize, Liebling, my mind was not present. What did you say?” The younger man had obviously hesitated to repeat his words, but had eventually done so. “I said that... we are both marked up now.” He never would have expected it, but Giacomo’s suggestion had broken his heart. His Giacomo had not deserved it, to be marked up. _He had not deserved it, oh Lord he had not deserved it._ “Friedrich?” He had needed to clear his throat before he had been even able to rasp out an “I am alright”, though he had known that he had not sounded very convincing to begin with. Giacomo had moved impossibly closer to him, firmly wrapping his arm around Friedrich while the older man had been fighting to keep his composure. Anger, fear, grief, love; the mix of emotions had stirred him up, had cracked the thin façade he had been so proud of having build up and had exposed the most vulnerable and wounded part of him. “We will be alright.” Friedrich had moved his fingers through the length of Giacomo’s hair once before he had returned to run circles on his scalp, “That we will be, mein Liebling. I shall promise you that.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the finale... I don't know if I'm ready *cries*, I love my boys so much :-(<3 Well, it's safe to say that this will _not_ be the last story that I wrote with them :-D
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

The grip Giacomo had on Friedrich’s hair could have been quite painful, as the younger’s fingers were holding onto the other’s hair as if is very life depended on it, but it would not have been a lie if Friedrich would have said that he enjoyed it. In fact, it spiked him on even further. Keeping one of his own hands splayed over Giacomo’s waist, thus pushing his squirming hips back down onto the bed, Friedrich allowed his tongue to speak in a way that was designated for no one but Giacomo. The king of Prussia smirked when he heard the muffled gasping and moaning from above him, Giacomo had clasped his free hand, the one that was not buried in Friedrich’s hair, over his mouth in an attempt to keep himself from getting too loud and from anyone to perceive their activities. Another drawled out, and only half muffled whine escaped the younger when Friedrich stilled the circling motion of his fingers inside of him. “What did you say, Liebling?” My God, what a sight he was. Propped up onto his pillow, with his hair unbound and spread out around him in a way that should not have been so erotic and his sweat-stained chest heaving and glowing in the cold grey light from the moon he was everything that Friedrich would ever be able to dream himself having. The fact that he loved him more than anything and was loved back to the same extend only made it more heavenly. The position Friedrich was in, kneeling between Giacomos parted and shaking legs, allowed him to please his lover with his fingers and his mouth at the same time it he wanted to, and he shuffled a bit backwards until he began to move his fingers inside of him again, not keeping his eyes off his face as he angled his digits and found his sensitive spot within an second. He did not even try to hide the grin that grew on his face when Giacomo’s left hand, the one which had been covering his mouth, flew of to hold onto the headrest of the bed instead. “Oh Friedrich - _oh_...” Friedrich returned to caress the underside of Giacomo’s fully erected cock with small kisses and licks, deliberatedly leaving his pink and shiny head untouched. It was good form to tease him, was it not? He continued to move his two fingers with skilled preciseness and slight pressure over the spot inside of Giacomo; he had almost hindered him from coming twice by closing his thumb and index finger around the base of his cock.

Ever since they had dared to go that way again, ever since they had came together as one, Giacomo’s libido has raised onto a level that was close to Friedrich’s. _“It would be my guess that it is helping him to come over his trauma, Sire,”_ Wilhelm had answered when Friedrich had asked him, one late night in his study, whether or not Giacomo’s willingness should worry him. He would still feel sick every time that he would remember the things that his beloved Giacomo had been forced to endure in the name of politics, when he would remember that he had been raped more times than Friedrich had been able to imagine. Giacomo threw his head back, exposing the curve of his neck, as a needy whine escaped him. It was louder than the prior ones had been and the younger man tried to silent himself by pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down onto it as the hand, which was holding onto Friedrich’s hair, beginning to shake more noticably. Giacomo was close, Friedrich was easily able to tell it. He raised back onto his heels, thus removing the attention from his lover’s cock, and pulled his hand back to allow him to move a lot more, something that the blond did as soon as Friedrich’s hand disappeared from his stomach. He circled his hips and pushed impossibly further down on the pair of digits working inside of him, eager for more. Friedrich kissed the inside of one of his trembling this, he would have liked to kiss his lips but the position they were in did not allow for said gesure. “Take me,” Giacomo breathed out, his chest heaving. His entire body seemed to be shaking, buzzing with need and trembling from the orgasm that was building up inside of him and which would surely be able to knock him over. Figuratively speaking, of course. “ _Please_ , oh please.” If Friedrich’s cock would not have been raised already, it would have been after he had heart Giacomo’s whimpering moans; the younger sounded as if he had been ready to burst into tears from the need that burned inside of him. He closed his eyes and kissed the same spot on Giacomo’s thigh again before biting the soft skin gently, closing his lips around it once again when he allowed himself to give into his desire to suck a love mark onto the otherwise unmarked skin. Giacomo’s reaction was exactly to his wishes - he bucked and moaned Friedrich’s name, his cock jumping. Friedrich continued to suck and lick at the spot, his own blood burning from the knowledge that his Sanssouci was wearing his mark again, that he was allowed to claim him like he had done it so often. It should have been frightening, knowing that his heart no longer belonged to himself, but Friedrich would not have changed it for the world. Not when he had this beautiful, absolutely perfect and lovable man in his life. His Giacomo, his Sanssouci, his Liebling. Friedrich pulled his fingers out of Giacomo, who gave a sound of disagreement when his muscle clenched around nothing. He clicked his tongue, “Now, Liebling, do not ask me to fuck you when you are going to complain, too.” The younger man rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner and loosened the hold he still had on Friedrich’s hair to let his second hand join his other on the headboard. “Then hurry, old man.” Friedrich shook his head as he poured a generous amount of lubricating oil into his palm, rubbing it between his palms to warm it up.

“You are being quite the brat, Sanssouci. Maybe I should not fuck you after all.” It was a ridiculous statement, considering that he was close to bursting himself, but it too had the wished effect. Giacomo gasped and stopped squirming his hips, his mouth hanging open with nothing but huffed breaths escaping him as he looked at Friedrich with wide, doe-like eyes. They carried so much trust and so much love that Friedrich simply needed to take a moment to drink it in. Once the oil was warm enough he applied it onto his cock, clenching its base while he did so as he feared that the touches of his own hand would be enough to push him over the peak of his orgasm. He shuffled forwards on his knees until he could align the head of his cock with Giacomo’s loosened entrance, letting go of his cock to hold onto Giacomo’s angled legs as he pushed in, slow inch after inch. He silently ordered himself in his mind to not thrust into him in one go as he had wanted to do it, fearing that it might trigger memories that would set Giacomo back on his path of healing. Giacomo answered his movement by pushing his hips down onto his cock at the same time, thus speeding up the process of Friedrich fully entering him. Their labored gasps were the only thing that could have been heard in the room, the light courtains billowing from the soft late summer’s breeze that streamed through the fully opened window, and when Friedrich’s pelvis came to rest tightly against Giacomo’s nethers, the king of Prussia could not stop the sudden urge of mixed emotions washing over him. The love he had for the younger was not one that he could have described, not even if he would have spoken ever language on the globe, and he ran both of his hands from Giacomo’s ankles, up his legs, until they came to rest on his stomach. He allowed his lover to grow accustomed to the feeling of penetration, waited until Giacomo gave him the signal to continue in the form of a nod before he shifted his position. Friedrich lowered himself onto his forearms, playing them on the mattress beside Giacomo’s head as he slowly stretched his body out, his cock remaining safely inside of the younger as he did so. Giacomo gasped, the weight of Friedrich on top of him a much welcomed one. He had since pulled out the pillow from underneath his head, thus lying flatly on his back. Their positions did not really allow them to thrust hard and fast, to fuck like the burning in the pits of their stomachs wanted them to, but neither Friedrich nor Giacomo wanted to be without the other’s closeness in that moment. “Move,” Giacomo breathed, wrapping both of his arms around Friedrich’s neck as the older nibbled and sucked on his neck, his hands driven into Giacomo’s disheveled hair. Friedrich obeyed, of course he did, seeking and finding a bit leverage on his knees to be able to pull out until it was merely the head of his cock that remained in the inviting warmth before thrusting back in with a steady force. The younger moaned into the air next to his ear, a soft, needy sound that caused a shiver to run down his spine. “Friedrich...” He raised his head from where he had been busy with caressing the inviting skin of Giacomo’s neck to caputure his lips, the circling movements he drove into the blond’s hair fitted to those of his hips. Giacomo would clench around him every time that he would thrust into him, his arms then rather loosely around Friedrich’s neck while they kissed each other breathless.

While Friedrich was well familiar with the sounds he could get out of his beloved by heart, his heart still summersaulted due to the soft whimpers, purrs and moans that his cock and his tongue drew from Giacomo. It was clear that neither of them would last long, and Friedrich had not missed how Giacomo had removed one arm from around his neck to let his hand wander southwards to, most likely, clench his cock and thus prevent him from hasting over the peak just then. “Liebling...” Friedrich broke the kiss but stayed close enough for them to share the same air, brushing his lips over Giacomo’s as he slowed down the rhythm that he was thrusting into him with. The younger man’s breath hitched and his eyes opened back up to look up at Friedrich with a searching gaze, the pupils blown out wide enough to make it seem as if the brown had completely disappeared from his eyes. “I love you,” the king of Prussia whispered against Giacomo’s lips before he kissed him again, knowing that he would not need to wait for an answer to be spoken in order to know it. “I love you too,” Giacomo gasped nonetheless once he was able to, stroking a curl off Friedrich’s forehead. “How beautiful you are...” “Do not be silly,” Friedrich answered, laughing breathily into the side of Giacomo’s neck which was just as sweat-streaked as the rest of their bodies seemed to be. “Look at you, Sanssouci.” The contractions of the younger’s muscle around Friedrich’s cock grew more and more erradic and stronger and it took no more than two further thrusts until Giacomo came, spilling his release between their already slick bodies. He clenched even harder when he came, and Friedrich followed him over the edge not even a handful of seconds later. His arms trembled in protest of having to keep him up and gave out without him being able to do anything about it; he sacked down onto Giacomo, both men laughing huskily at the obscene slick sound that it caused. “My beautiful king,” Giacomo whispered as he stroke Friedrich’s hair, he sensed that the older had came so hard that it had caused his sensed to fail on him. A wonder, really, that it was Giacomo, considering how much teasing he had stood through, who was the only one with a working mind in that moment. “There are no words for how much I love you, Friedrich. No words...” Friedrich kept his eyes closed as he tried to get back into the there and then, the touches of Giacomo’s hands and Giacomo’s voice being the most heavenly thing that he only could have imagined to have in that moment. His cock had already softened completely when he rolled off Giacomo and onto his back, pulling his member free in the process. “Giacomo,” was all Friedrich managed to bring out once his brain had turned back on, still breathing heavily, and Giacomo only laughed as he too changed his position. The younger rolled over onto his stomach - to prevent the release that Friedrich had spilled into him from seeping out and onto the bed, and rested his cheek on his folded arms. His eyes were filled with so much open admiration and love that Friedrich felt his throat closing up, emotions threatening to spill out freely. He lifted his right arm to stroke a few strands, which stuck to his lover’s sweaty forehead, away before he ran the tips of his fingers down the curve of his spine, watching the shadow if his hand play on Giacomo’s skin.

“I believe that you already know that my life without you is no life,” Friedrich whispered as he moved his fingers up the slight arch of Giacomo’s back until he could lay his palm on the very top of his backside. He kneaded the flesh he found there, enjoying the way that the soft hair tickled his own skin. Unable to resist the temptation Friedrich dipped his index finger as well as his ring finger in between those taunt globes, earning a soft gasp from Giacomo when he could slide into him without any resistance. Knowing that it was his release that made him as slick as he was brought out a rather animalistic side out and he changed the angle of his fingers rather roughly, earning him another breathless moan which the younger man then muffled in the depths of his pillow. Giacomo’s moan was followed by what could have counted as a yelp when Friedrich stretched his sore muscle out, and the king of Prussia was about to stop what he was doing, as he did not want to hurt him, but when he moved to slowly pulled his fingers out, it was Giacomo who arched his back even further and thus pushed his ass back onto Friedrich’s digits. The older chuckled and resumed to slowly finger fucking him, always in mind that Giacomo was both sore and as good as spend out from his first, long awaited orgasm. “You are insatiable,” Friedrich chuckled, angling his arm to put his hand under his head and be able to watch himself work. It was a sight that many would only write sonets about, the way Giacomo’s trembling body fought to keep itself in that raised position and how his backside quavered from the force of yet another orgasm that was building itself up in his lower stomach. Giacomo brought something out, though Friedrich was not able to catch it since he had moaned it into the pillow. “What did you say, Liebling?” He did not stop the circling and pushing movement of his fingers, though slowed it down enough for Giacomo to catch his breath, lift his head and repeat what he had just said. “I said that,” his breath hitched when Friedrich hit his spot again, “you are the one to say.” Friedrich laughed and, with some struggle, managed to sit up without having to pull his fingers out of his lover, raising onto his knees to straddle Giacomo’s outstretched legs. The position allowed him get a better angle of penetration, and when he pushed down once, Giacomo truly bucked underneath him and heavily raised onto his elbows to be able to look at Friedrich with a somewhat disbelieving look on his face. Friedrich cocked an eyebrow at him as he scissored his fingers anew, “What?” Instead of answering, Giacomo merely blushed a darker shade of red, especially when Friedrich began to knead his ass with his free hand. “Harder,” he whispered, his cock rock hard where it was trapped between the mattress and his body and he hid his face back in the feathery depths of the pillow when Friedrich fulfilled his wish, though Friedrich breeched him with a third finger before he did so. The king of Prussia leaned down to kiss his lover’s sweaty back. “My beautiful Sanssouci.” His hand was beginning to hurt from the strain of the somewhat monotonous motion, but he did not even notice the ache when Giacomo’s needy moans and whimpers reached his ears.

Friedrich could _feel_ the vibrations that were going through the younger man’s body, could feel that he was close, and he raised a bit more onto his knees to get a better angle on Giacomo’s sensitive spot. “Frie-iedrich,” Giacomo cried out, he was so sore and sensitive from the prior fucking that the feeling of the approaching orgasm almost overwhelmed him. He threw a hand back - not to stop him, but to have something of Friedrich to hold on to, a second wish of him that was fulfilled when Friedrich took his hand and laced their fingers together, keeping Giacomo’s hand safely secured in the small of his back as he steadily guided him onto the peak of his orgasm. Friedrich whispered sweet words of love and adoration when he pressed the tips of his fingers down onto Giacomo’s spot for the last time, being proven right in his suggestion that it would push him over the edge. Giacomo contracted around him as he came with a soft cry, his fingers holding onto Friedrich’s as if they were his life line, and Friedrich himself was rather shocked to find out that the younger was not the only one that emptied his load of release in that moment. He, too, jumped over the edge for the second time that night, shooting ribbons over his lover’s backside and trembling from the wave of exhaustion that rolled over him as an aftermath. Friedrich pulled his fingers out with a squelch and wiped them at least somewhat clean on the bedspread before he sacked back down onto the mattress. Giacomo yet had to move from where he was laying flat, his face was still hidden in the pillow and Friedrich felt something clench in his chest when he watched how the younger’s back trembled. “Come here, Liebling,” he whispered and shuffled closer to him, holding his arms open to signal his wish of wanting to hold him. Giacomo reacted slowly, but did not need to be told twice. He let out an almost mewling sound as he raised his head up from the pillow and moved until his cheek plopped down onto Friedrich’s chest. “ _Oh mio buon dio_ ,” Giacomo managed to bring out, exertion clearly audible in both his breathing and his voice, as he loosely wrapped his arm around Friedrich, who was holding him securely and as close as possible. Their legs intertwined on their own accords as they laid next and onto each other at the same time. “Giacomo?” “Yes?”, came the whispered reply, and Friedrich found himself dangerously close to tears due to the uncontrollable mix of emotion that was residing in his chest. He never wanted to let go of him again. Before he could answer, though, he noticed how Giacomo, whose body was just as sweat-streaked as Friedrich’s, shivered from light gust of wind that hit them and he moved around to pull the thin summer blanket over the both of them. “Promise that you will never leave me,” Friedrich whispered into the crown of Giacomo’s hair, “please do not leave me,” pressing a desperate kiss into it. “I would not survive it, I -” “Would you shut your mouth already,” Giacomo cut him off, sounding as if his voice should have carried a lot more bite than it really was. He knew very well how much Friedrich blamed himself for everything that had ever happened, and while he was to partly blame for some of it, Giacomo could not stand the way that he took it all onto his own shoulders. “I mean it when I say that I would rather die than be parted from you again.”

“Do not...”, Friedrich began, but trailed off when his throat threatened to become closed up. To hear Giacomo speak about death was just... He tightened the hold he had on him, not wanting to even do so much as think about how many time his beloved Sanssouci had scraped past said fate. “I will never leave you,” Giacomo whispered, drawing nonsense patterns onto the skin of Friedrich’s chest. “I promise.” They fell into a comfortable silence after their confessions, their fingers drawling blind patterns on the other’s skin simple to feel him. “Giacomo?”, Friedrich asked once more, his voice raised no higher than a whisper and Giacomo, who was truly beginning to feel exhaustion and tiredness creeping up onto him, answered with a mere humming sound. “You might not be able to retreat to your room for a while, I forgot to tell you that the renovation works in this wing will be beginning tomorrow.” The king of Prussia waited to be given an answer, maybe even hoped for a question along the lines of “What kind of renovation works are you talking about”, but Giacomo had already fallen into a slumber before Friedrich had even completed his sentence, and the older man grinned to himself as tightened his arms around his sleeping lover a bit more. He had put a lot of his time and his work into planning what would beginn the next day, the gift that would, hopefully, top any other that Giacomo had ever gotten, be it from him or from anyone else before him. He loosened one arm from around him just long enough to pull one of the nearby pillows underneath his head, not very eager to wake up to a sore back and neck the next morning, and hummed under his breath with hopes that it would prevent the man he loved from being startled awake by his movements. Giacomo must have been utterly out of it, as he did not even do so much as stir when Friedrich changed his position even further. Friedrich did not care that he was going to be exhausted when he would wake up the following morning, but the minutes and hour that he was allowed to spend in bed with his beloved Liebling easily made up with it. He only then noticed that they had not cleaned themselved up, meaning that they would be remembered of their nightly play the next day. While the king of Prussia was probably just as exhausted as his lover had been, it was not as easy for him to fall into Morpheus’ arms as it had been for the younger man. Yes, his eyelids were heavy as he looked down at those beautiful blond curls he was absentmindendly stroking in a repetative manner and Giacomo’s weight on top of him only made sleep more exciting, but it was Friedrich’s mind that did not allow him to welcome the much needed sleep. He truly hoped that he had made the right decision by setting the plan which had grown on his mind into motion. _If you want him to stay, you must give him a home_. It was not that Giacomo did not deserve it - oh, he would have deserved the world and Friedrich would have given him the world if it would have been within his powers, he merely feared that Giacomo might misunderstand his intention. “Oh Sanssouci,” he whispered, still driving his fingers through Giacomo’s incredibly soft hair. “I hope that you will be happy with it.”

As much as Friedrich would have liked to be able to, he never would have been as successfully in his planning without the help of a certain frenchman that was currently residing his court. He would have been stupid if he would have claimed that Philippe de Lorraine was not the second closest person to his beloved Giacomo, even if he was anything but happy with his lover’s choice of friends. _“Your Majesty is requesting my advise,” the frenchman had asked, his voice not untouched from a hint of sarcasm which, considering his stand underneath the other, had not been without risk of consequences. It had been apparent, however, that he did not care. “Indeed,” the king of Prussia had answered with a voice which had stood in a vast contrast to the other’s as it was had been rather flat and free of any hint of emotion as he had stood from where he sat behind his writing desk. “If it would not be for his sake, I would not.” The French had turned up both his nose and his chin, allowing a low snort to escape him that had turned Friedrich’s face even more into the mask that had resembled stone rather than flesh. “His sake,” the French had repeated, and every man, be it a friend or not, would have realized that there had stood more behind his words than simple disdain for the monarch alone. The king had realized it, too. “It is for his sake only that I allowed you to come here in the first place,” Friedrich had retorted, his voice no longer as distant as it had been, and he had tried to hide the fact that his hands had been trembling ever since the frenchman had stepped under his eyes by holding them folded in the small of his back. “If it would not be for his sake,” he had drawled out, taking one slow step after another until he had came to stand right in front of the French. While he could not have overpowered him by statue, he could do so with his mere posture alone. He, after all, had managed to hide the boiling anger inside of him more than just well enough. “I would have banished you from my country.” The two men had looked at each other, almost non-blinking, and much to the king’s joy it had been the frenchman who had given in first, as said man had muttered something under his breath, had taken a step back and had eyed the other with fully opened eyes instead of narrowed ones like he had done it before. “And how does... Your Majesty believe I ought to be of help?” The mask had slipped off the monarch’s face to be replaced with a triumphant and sarcastically friendly smile, “Now, that was not so hard, was it?”_ Philippe de Lorraine had been quite the help in getting Friedrich the information he had needed in order to choose the right architects, painters, weaving mills and furniture manufacturers for the execution of the planned renovation. It had been the French who could have asked Giacomo all those questions without having him suspect anything, if Friedrich would have done it he probably would not even have managed to hide his thoughts from the younger’s demand for an answer. Philippe had found out that Giacomo favored Bernardo Bellotto veduta art over any other contemporary art - Friedrich had send out an official request for the Venetian artist, who was currently working as a court painter in Munich, the same day.

He had, slowly but steadily, put together somewhat of a list of things that he believed would make Giacomo’s home... well, Giacomo’s forever home. Friedrich saw it as his chance to show him, in a materialistic way, just how much he meant to him, and he thus had bitten his tongue as he had sat at a round table with the first valet, Philippe de Lorraine, the Italian ambassador and Johann Gottfried Büring, Friedrich’s chosen architect, planning the alteration of royal chamber in which Giacomo was residing if he was not sharing Friedrich’s apartment. The king of Prussia had instructed Büring with a draft for a redesign of the palace’s royal wing long before he had actually met Giacomo, but had only then found the nerve to give the clear order for the renovation. _“We will join this wall,” Büring, the architect, pointed at a spot on his scetched ground plan, “to the one of Your Majesty’s apartment. The Monsieur will thus be granted an access to Your Majesty’s balcony.” Friedrich had agreed to it with a sharp nod. “What about the partitions? Can they be removed of will it damage the building?” “They can be, Your Majesty.” “Remove them, then. Leave it open.” “Of course, Your Majesty.”_ Friedrich stiffled a yawn and stilled his hand, cupping it against Giacomo’s head instead of running it through his hair. It was an utterly endearing sight to see the man he loved deeply asleep on his chest, the way his limp hand rested right next to his face. Giacomo’s warm breath tickled his skin and Friedrich believed that his heart summersaulted when he carefully storke an unruly strand of hair away from Giacomo’s face, fearing that it might disturb him in his sleep. “I love you,” he whispered, feeling a bit silly as the younger was not able to hear him, but he simply had to bring it out as it truly was everything that he wanted to let him know. Friedrich kissed the crown of Giacomo’s hair one more time before he pulled the blanked a bit higher over them, making sure that his lover was completely covered by the thin fabric. He did not care that his own legs were exposed to the quite chilly breeze of the night, Giacomo’s weight on top of him provided warmth as much as it gave him the comfort of home. It was sad but true; he had spend over a decade living in the palace that he had chosen as his home without it being a real home. Friedrich’s home was currently sleeping and softly snoring halfway on top of him, and with the anticipation for the following day he joined Giacomo for a rest in the arms of Morpheus.

~

“Friedrich! Friedrich!” The kind of Prussia could not prevent himself from wincing where he sat behind the writing desk in his study, while the voice that was calling out for him then sounded nothing like the cry for help he had heard in all of his dreams while Giacomo had been in the captivity of the duke of Württemberg, he still suffered from a short moment of panic. The coldness, which had gained a hold of his heart in an vice like grip, only disappeared when Giacomo opened the door without asking for permission first. Friedrich managed a warm smile, but Giacomo did not smile back at him. In fact, the younger looked more mad than Friedrich had ever seen him - which explained as for why he had called out his name in the first place. He tried to stiffle a laugh; Giacomo most likely did not know how adorable he looked with his face blushed red from anger and before Friedrich could have said anything, it was the Italian who spoke. “What on earth it going on,” Giacomo snapped, wildly gesturing with his hands. “Am I no longer allowed to go and get my own belongings? Where did you put them?” He knew that he probably should not speak to Friedrich like he did it right then, as he loved him too much, but he was mad and also somewhat confused. Latter was not due to the fact that he had woken up alone - it was something that he had been forced to grow used to ever since he had first gotten close to Friedrich. No, he was not mad, and a slightly bit confused, that he woke up alone. It was the fact that he had been woken up the sound of hammering and general loud noises, including people skittering back and forth in the corridor and what Giacomo had believed to be the sound of furniture being pushed around that had confused him greatly. _Giacomo had groaned when he had been pulled out of the soothing arms of sleep, not even needing to take a look at the clock to know that he could have slept longer. He had rolled over onto his back, a hot flush of both embarassment and arousal shooting through him, making him blush, when he had noticed the stickyness that had still been present between his thighs; he must had fallen asleep before Friedrich could have handed him a cloth. He had stayed on his back, though, as a simple look at the bedspread had told him that it had already been in dire need for cleaning, for a few more minutes that he had spend rubbing at his eyes and yawning, until the tumult grew too loud for him to continue his relaxation. After having swung his legs over the edge of the bed Giacomo had pushed himself onto his feet, the color on his face changing into a deeper hue when he had been able to feel the remnants of last night’s lovemaking. He had been incredibly glad that Friedrich had not hesitated to... touch him a bit rougher, and just as glad that his mind had not began to draw parallels between their love making and his rape. Giacomo had disappeared into the adjoined bathroom of the royal apartments, had taken his time to clean himself and while he had not been sore enough for it to be painful, he had still applied a bit of the oinment Friedrich had aquired for him onto his puckered muscle. He had gotten dressed, had his hair put into a braid and his face powdered my one of the valets before he had left Friedrich’s chamber._

 _All he had wanted to do had been to get his diary out of the room that he rarely ever used since he had began to sleep in Friedrich’s, but he had been confronted with what had woken him so rudely from the very moment on that he had stepped out into the corridor. He had almost been pushed off his feet be a couple of men that had been carrying long wooden beams past him and into the direction that his room was in; and Giacomo’s eyes had widened almost comically when he had seen how the men truly had disappeared into said room. “Excuse me,” he had called out, mindfull of keeping a respectful tone as he had hurried after them. “Excuse me -” “Monsieur Casanova.” Giacomo had been stopped by a guard which had stepped into his way, signaling that he had not been allowed to walk past that point. “What is the meaning of this?” “An order from His Majesty the king.” “What?” Giacomo had taken a step back, his gaze straying away from the guard over to the men which he had then identifies as craftsmen, who had been moving past them and into and out of the room freely. “An order from His Majesty the king,” the guard had merely repeated, not moving away from where he had build himself up infront of Giacomo, who had been good two heads shorter than him. Not that Giacomo would have tried to fight him, anyway. “Where did they bring my things?” “You must speak to His Majesty, Monsieur.” He had tried not to grow mad and annoyed as he had strode throught he palace, but he could not have stopped himself from snapping Friedrich’s name as he closed in on his study. “Am I no longer allowed to go and get my own belongings? Where did you put them?”_ He felt some of his anger seeping away when he could clearly see how Friedrich pressed his lips into a thin line in order to not grin or laugh, instead feeling the heat of embarassment creeping up into his face. “Now that is not a very nice way to greet your king, is it,” Friedrich said with a playfully scolding tone as he stood up from his chair and moved around the table, a grin finally growing on his face when he closed in onto Giacomo and pulled him into a kiss before the younger could have protested. “Good morning, Sanssouci.” Giacomo never could have stayed angry, even if he was incredibly annoyed by whatever Friedrich had decided to not tell him about, when Friedrich kissed him until their lungs burned from the lack of air. “Your belongings are safe, mein Liebling, they were merely moved into another room,” the king of Prussia said with a low chuckle, stroking one of Giacomo’s cheeks. “I told you.” “No, you did not.” “I did.” Giacomo clicked his tongue, again failing to be mad when Friedrich pulled him closer by his waist. “I am positive that you did not.” The older man let out an indefinable humming sound as he nuzzled his face into the side of Giacomo’s neck and squeezed his lover’s waist at the same time. “I promise that I did, mein Liebling. You just... might not have been awake enough to have heard it.”

Giacomo rolled his eyes and slapped the back of Friedrich’s head, lightly so but enough to show that he was not very amused. “You think you are so clever, Friedrich” “Am I not?”, Friedrich whispered, kissing a spot low on Giacomo’s neck and thus causing the younger’s eyes to flutter close. He knew that he could probably never truly stay mad at Friedrich, no matter how much he would like to. He had never been able to. “Of course you are, _Your Majesty_ ,” Giacomo retorted, letting out a short laughter when Friedrich bit the soft skin once before capturing his lips anew. Friedrich moved the tip of his tongue over Giacomo’s bottom lip, asking for a permission to enter which was granted to him immediately. The younger let out a sound of contentment into the kiss, moving his hands until they folded in the back of Friedrich’s neck, pulling his head further down. They both knew that they were acting like youths who had never gotten past the first phase of a relationship, constantly kissing and needing to feel each other, but to anyone who would have been a witness it would have been clear that neither of them had really cared about it. “What are they doing?” “Hm?” “With my room, Friedrich.” “Oh right,” the king of Prussia snorted, “I almost forgot about that.” Giacomo merely rolled his eyes, though kept his fingers moving through the short hair that peaked out from under Friedrich’s wig in the nape of his neck. “I cannot tell you about that, Sanssouci.” The younger man’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, “You cannot?” “No, Liebling.” “Or do you not want to tell me?” “I promise that I would tell you if I could,” Friedrich said, dropping his voice until it stood only barely above a whisper. “But it... is supposed to be a surprise, and I do not want to spoil it.” Giacomo did not know what he had expected to hear and what had laid so heavy on his chest, but the latter fell off when Friedrich confessed to him; he truly could not be mad if it was supposed to be a surprise for him. “You did not need to -” The kiss he was pulled into silenced him, and Friedrich pulled back once he was sure that Giacomo had gotten his point. “Hush, yes I did.” The blond bit his lip as he met Friedrich’s gaze, raising onto the tip of his toes to kiss a corner of his mouth. “I missed you in bed earlier...” The hands on his waist disappeared as the older man fully wrapped his arms around him instead, pulling him as tightly as only possible against him. “And I am sorry that I was not able to stay there with you, mein Liebling.” Giacomo smiled to himself when Friedrich sighed and rested his forehead on his shoulder, almost wearily, and the younger brough up a hand to caress the back of the king’s neck again. “Do not worry about it, Friedrich. I know that you have no other choice.” “Who orders a king but the king?”, Friedrich muttered with an almost child-like confusion, so as if he truly did not understand why he could not have just stayed with his lover. Giacomo merely leaned his head against Friedrich’s as he continued to caress him, his eyes wandering over to the not-so-small stack of files on the writing desk. “It seems that you have a lot of work for today.”

The king of Prussia groaned and pressed his face further into the younger man’s shoulder, “Do not remind me.” Giacomo hummed, nudging Friedrich’s head back to be able to kiss him. “Will I see you for lunch?”, he asked, blushing into a soft hue when one of the older man’s hand wandered dangerously low towards his backside and Friedrich sighed before he answered. “I apologise, mein Liebling, but I do not think that I will manage to free enough time today.” “It is quite alright, Friedrich. I understand.” “No, it is not. I would much rather be with you.” Giacomo leaned his head into the palm that Friedrich had since cupped against his cheek, “I do know that.” “Do not be mad, Sanssouci, I will make it up to you.” He shook his head all so gently, “With all that you have done you will never have to make anything up to me, Friedrich.” The Prussian clicked his tongue and Giacomo could truly read the love and appreciation behind the blue of his eyes, the color only ever so warm when they would look at him. “I do not know what I ever did to deserve you, Giacomo.” “I could ask you the same question.” The two men kissed again, neither of them very eager to let go of the other. “I should get back to work, Liebling,” Friedrich eventually managed to say, stroking a strand of hair behind Giacomo’s ear and reaching onto the pocket of his waistcoat to pull something out. “The key to the room your belongings are stored in.” “Thank you.” He nodded and continued to stand leaned against the edge of his table until Giacomo had left the room, smiling at him from over his shoulder before he had closed the door behind him, and the king of Prussia allowed himself to groan and run a hand over his face as he pushed himself into an upright position and moved to sit back down behind his desk. Giacomo was in a truly good mood as he passed along the wide corridor, clutching the key Friedrich had given him in his hand. The annoyance that had ridden him before had vanished in order to be replaced with a feeling of excitement and anticipation instead. A surprise, Friedrich was planning a surprise for him - without an apparent reason, too, as it was neither his birthday or their anniversary were nearing. “Mignonette!” He had just reached the top of the stairs when he was called by the unmistakable from the ground floor, and it indeed was Philippe who stood at the bottom of said stairs, looking as regal as ever and raising his walking cane in a greeting over the distance. While Giacomo had been about to go to the room the key would grant him access to, he discarded that plan and took the same stairs back down again. “How are you, mon beau,” his friend greeted him once they stood in front of each other, and Giacomo cocked a knowing eyebrow when he spotted the tale-telling mark on Philippe’s legs. “Oh I am just fine,” he said. “And you appear to be so, too.” Philippe cleared his throat and tugged at the collar of his blouse, though instead of a blush there was a smile on his face and Giacomo knew what he was about to say before he had even opened his mouth. “Henry, he... the king has invited him to stay here during his leave from the military and,” Philippe drew in a breath, “we had a talk last evening.” Giacomo simply had to tild his head and smile, it was touching to see just how much his friend was trying to hide the obvious way that he was emotionally touched by the young Prussian.

It had taken Giacomo days trying to talk some sense into Philippe - as the French had tried to turn his blind eye towards the fact that he truly did love Henry, and that he was suffering from the end of their relationship as much as the younger man was. Giacomo had known it from the very first time that the two had been in the same room again, while Philippe had then tried to fix his entire attention on the alcohol in his glass it had been obvious that the shine in Henry’s eyes had not been due to the light of the many candles in the salon. “I am happy for you,” he thus said, laying a hand on Philippe’s forearm, and the French answered with a low “Thank you”. They agreed on taking a short walk in the garden and Giacomo allowed himself to sigh from contentment when the warm summer’s sun hit his face as soon as they stepped out of the palace. “Enough talking about me,” Philippe chuckled, nudging Giacomo into his side. “How are you, mignonette? Is your king treating you well?” “He always is,” Giacomo answered, joining his friend in his laughter. “Well, if you count out the way he told me about the renovation work while I was already sleeping.” “What?” “You heard me right, I only just found out that I will not be able to use my rooms for a while.” He turned his head to look at Philippe when the frenchman did not answer, and he cocked an eyebrow as he saw how Philippe had taken a sudden interest in the tip of his cane while pressing his lips together, the corners of his mouth twitching. Giacomo let out a low gasp, “You _knew_ about it?”, but Philippe merely raised his hands in front of him. “I am not saying anything.” “You knew?” “I am not saying anything, mignonette.” “He _told_ you?” “I do not believe this,” Giacomo said, shaking his head with a smile present on his face. “He told you before he informed me... I never would have dreamed that I would live to see that day.” “I apologize but I have to repeat myself yet again: I am not saying anything.” “Fine, keep your secrets then.” “Do not be sulky, mignonette, but I made a promise to the king. I, to quote him, _must keep my mouth shut at every time_.” “I shall tell him that you have done a very good job with following his orders.” “It is what I have hoped for, actually.” They made halt in front of the central fountain, standing side by side as they watched the play of the water. “Can you believe this? A year ago...” Giacomo trailed off, but Philippe nodded nonetheless. Of course he understood, he understood him very well. The blond stayed still when he felt a hand searching for his, and complied when Philippe motioned that he would like to lock their fingers. “A lot can change in a year.” “An entire life can change,” Giacomo muttered, so low as if he had though out loud, and turned his head to look at his friend, who had been looking at him for some time without him having noticed it. Philippe squeezed Giacomo’s hand and Giacomo squeezed Philippe’s back, smiles ghosting over their faces.


	16. Chapter 16 - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it took me so long to finish this final chapter - between a week in Paris, multiple deadlines and battling a throat infection I just didn't have the time to come up with an ending that would do it justice. I know that I probably shouldn't be, but I'm pretty much emotionally attached to this story. It's the first one I began after a long hiatus from writing and the one that made me fall in love with Friedrich/Giacomo and ugh, a part of me wants to continue it but... I feel like it's the right time for it to end. I really really loved writing it, I can't believe that it took me nine months to get this far and I honestly never would've thought that I would actually finish it. A big thank-you to those who pulled through with me, who read and commented and left their kudos, it means a lot to me! Now, this is far from the last thing that I will write with those two [they live in my heart now], but it's still hard for me to put an end to this. I tried to give my best, though, which resulted in the length having gotten more than just a bit out of hands and I decided split the chapter into two parts, just so it's more comfortable to read. :-)
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Friedrich did not even try to hide the grin that grew on his face when he heard Giacomo waking up beside him with a groan, and the king of Prussia rolled onto his side to drive the fingers of one hand through his lover’s slightly disheveled hair. It had taken them both some time to grow used to the almost constant noises that came from the nearby construction side, but it had only been Friedrich, out of the two of them, who knew of the progress of the renovation works as he had made sure to visit it every evening and let the architect in charge, Johann Gottfried Büring, inform him of what yet had to be done. He was growing more and more anxious, eager to find out how Giacomo will react to this well-planned and well-executed present; he himself had been more than positively surprised when he had gotten to see the finished rooms just last evening. If Giacomo would accept it, Sanssouci would become his forever home. There was no way on this earth that Friedrich would ever allow another to stay in that appartment, if Giacomo would truly leave him - a prospect that made him swallow hard - for whatever reason, he would seal it up and burry the key somewhere only he would know. Friedrich shook his head, thus forcing thoughts of that nature into the farthest corner of his mind. They should not be granted any more space in that moment. Giacomo groaned again, stretching his obviously not yet fully awake body out and Friedrich was still grinning as he continued to stroke his hair, very well aware of how much the younger liked it. “Good morning, Liebling.” The blond murmured under his breath, something that Friedrich would not have been able to understand even if Giacomo would not have yawned inmidst said murmuring, and the king of Prussia chuckled when he saw how his lover cracked one, then the other eye open in a manner that told him that Giacomo was already expecting to be annoyed within the first second of being awake. Friedrich’s chuckle turned into a full-on laughter when a rather dark gaze was being shot at him. “None of that now, Giacomo. I told you that I could let you sleep in, but you insisted.” Giacomo, once mure, muttered something that Friedrich was not able to understand fully, though the older man was sure that it went along the lines of “You are right but it is still too early” and he rolled back over onto his back to allow the younger to move and rest his cheek on his chest. The grin on Friedrich’s face spoke of underlying mischief and it did all but falter when Giacomo, once having shrugged Morpheus’ arms off him for good, raised onto his elbows and looked at Friedrich with a cocked eyebrow. “It is... quiet.”

“Now that took you longer than I had expected it,” the older man laughed, sobering a bit when he was, rather gently, smacked on the chest. “You know very well that I’m not a morning person.” Friedrich nodded and crossed his arms behind his head, an indefinable glimmer in his eyes as he looked at Giacomo. “Yes, I know that.” Due to their latest nightly activity they had slept covered with nothing but the thin sommer blanket and due to Giacomo’s movement said blanket had slipped down, revealing the king’s halfway flagged member, though the younger had no eyes for it as he shuffled until his face was at the same height as Friedrich’s. “Is it finished?” Giacomo looked down at Friedrich, his eyes shining with what Friedrich could only describe as an almost childlike amount of excitement, biting his lip as he waited for an answer of the still grinning man below him. “Oh Friedrich, do not tease me,” he whined, leaning down to kiss a corner of Friedrich’s mouth. “Is it finished?” He was unable to let out anything but a quick yelp when Friedrich grabbed him and pulled him down into a kiss, keeping his tongue in Giacomo’s mouth as he closed his arms around his lover and rolled them both over. “It is finished, you brat, but I am wondering about where your patience went.” Giacomo wriggled underneath him, gasping when he felt Friedrich’s erection rubbing against his stomach. “It if not fair, you know how long I waited.” Friedrich made a humming sound of agreement and nuzzled his face into the side of Giacomo’s neck, moving one hand down his lover’s body to be able to grope at his backside. “I could make you wait for one more week, Liebling...”, the king of Prussia whispered against the skin of Giacomo’s neck he had just kissed, smiling when he heard another whine from the younger man. It was quite adorable, and definitely healing to see him acting like this again. “Friedrich?” “Yes?” “You know that it would be accompanied by a week of no sex, right?” “Excuse me?” Friedrich lifted his head to look at Giacomo, who was staring back at him with a cocked eyebrow and a grin on his face. “If _Your Majesty_ is certain that such decision would not come without any consquences -” The Italian was cut off when he was kissed rather roughly, Friedrich’s tongue past his lips hindering from bringing anything but a low whine out, and he wrapped his arms around Friedrich as the older man made his nonverbal point clear. “If I would not be already breaking my own protocol by lying here in bed with you I would teach you a lesson about -” “Respecting your elders?”, Giacomo interrupted with a boyish grin, squealing when Friedrich almost jumped up into a kneeling position beside him, grabbed him by the shoulders, forced him to turn over onto his stomach, straddled his outstretched legs and placed half a dozen of smacks right onto the center of his upturned backside. A dark pink print of Friedrich’s hand bloomed on Giacomo’s skin, and the king of Prussia was absolutely mesmerized by it. He traced the area he had hit with the tips of his fingers, drawing in the way that Giacomo mewled into the crook of his arm while he swayed his hips as much as possible. “That is quite enough cheek from you, Liebling.”

“Ow,” the younger man said with a fake pout as he looked at Friedrich from over his shoulder and extended one arm back to be able to rub at the sore, something that Friedrich believed to be incredibly endearing and as opposed to his words he did not move away because he had already wasted enough time, so to speak. “Now, now,” he said with an equally fake scolding tone, swatting Giacomo’s hand away from his backside, “do not act as if you never had worse.” Giacomo huffed and threw his hair back with an unmistakable attitude as he pulled his arm, resting his cheek on his folded arms once more. “I am meeting Philippe in the salon at nine, and -” “Oh, and you are wondering how you are supposed to sit down now?”, Friedrich laughed as he set in to spank him again, allowing his hand to land down on multiple spots instead of one while making sure that he paid a bit more attention to the sensitive creases of Giacomo’s backside, which would carry his weight when he would sit down. He did not hit him as hard as he could have, counting on the fact that Giacomo would feel it in its complexion. “Do you think that he will notice you squirming?” “Friedrich,” was the only reply that came from the blond, who was still swaying his hips in a way that caused his backside to be an even more tempting target and Friedrich simply had to grin and shake his head; Giacomo knew well enough what he was doing, and it would have been a lie if he would have said that he was not enjoying it. “So you think that he will?” His hand landed low on his lover’s backside, drawing a gasp from him. “That is what I like to hear,” he hit the same spot once more, the sound of skin hitting skin ecchoing through the room. “Will you tell him that I spanked you exactly the way that you were asking me to?” While Friedrich knew that it always worked him up if he would fulfill his Liebling’s wish of being a bit rougher, he was a bit surprised to feel his cock standing fully erected by then. It was not only the way that Giacomo’s soft flesh bounced under his palm as much as it were the breathy little moans and whimpers he let out and Friedrich certainly was not the one to deny the arousal that came from dominating him. He repeated his question when he was not given an answer, “Will you?”, his own voice quite rough and on edge as his mind could really draw the scene in front of his inner eye. _Giacomo stuttering after the French had asked him why he could not sit still, his Sanssouci’s beautiful face gaining more and more color as he said what Friedrich had told him to answer._ Giacomo’s breath hitched and he hurried to answer with an appropriate “I will, oh I will Friedrich”, to which Friedrich himself answered by stopping the punishing rhythm of his hand. He hummed, using both of his hands to rub the slightly reddened flesh in front of him in a rather rough manner - his experience told him that the color would be gone by the evening as he had not spanked him that hard. “Are you satisfied now, mein Liebling?” Giacomo heaved himself onto his forearms, his face full of color and his eyes full of love. Friedrich could not know that he had doubted he would succeed with his teasing. “Do you want me to...”, the blond’s eyes switched to his prominent erection and as much as Friedrich’s mind was screaming at his tongue to let the “Yes, God yes please” move over it, he somehow managed to put distance between them.

The king of Prussia moved away from where he had been kneeling over his lover’s outstretched legs, shaking his head. “There is no more time left, Liebling, I am sorry.” “Oh, that is a shame,” Giacomo answered with am exaggerated sigh as he rolled over onto his, stretching his body out and showing off the fact that he was just as worked up as Friedrich was. He battered his eyelashes and bit his lip as he searched for Friedrich’s gaze in an attempt to maybe convince the older man that staying a bit longer was perfectly fine with him. “A true shame...” Friedrich, who had since forced himself to stand up and slip into his morning robe, groaned when he turned around to find his lover lolling on their bed, obviously not satisfied with the answer that Friedrich had given him. “Liebling...” “Who can order the king around but the king,” Giacomo purred and Friedrich, as embarassing as it may be, had to squeeze the base of his cock as the blond teasingly ran a hand down his naked chest, still biting his lip and throwing sweet looks at him. Friedrich _knew_ that he should not give in - he really needed to prepare for the conference that would consume the majority of his day, but there was just no way that he could leave the man he loved behind when they both had been so worked up. Giacomo’s laughter was high and filled the room as the king of Prussia almost tore the robe back off and dumped it onto the ground with an almost animalistic grow before he climbed onto the bed, moving on his hands and knees until he towered over Giacomo. “And I believe that you know just how a king always takes what he desires, especially from someone as beautiful as you,” Friedrich whispered against the already sweat-covered skin of Giacomo’s chest, drinking in the whine that his lover let out when he sucked on and kissed the sensitive area around his nipple. They were both already too far gone for the whole process, so Friedrich captured Giacomo’s lips into a heated kiss while he wrapped his right had around the younger’s bouncing cock, teasing the slit of the shiny pink head with his thumb. “Friedrich, please.” He answered to Giacomo’s moaned plea by tightening the hold he had on his cock, moving it down its length with a teasing slowness while he placed a line of kisses from the corner of Giacomo’s mouth and over his neck before he kissed him on the lips again. “Look what you are doing to me, Liebling,” he whispered, trying to take mental image the sight of Giacomo’s fluttering eyes, his blushed face and the way that he bit his plush lips at every tug of Friedrich’s hand. “Forcing me to neglect my duties.” “I -” “But it is what I love you for, Giacomo.” It was a confession to which Giacomo answered with brief gasp, and one of his hand, having had grasped on the bedspread, came up clasp itself down in the back of Friedrich’s neck. Friedrich could easily see how close he was, he, too, was approaching the peak of his orgasm at a racing speed when Giacomo’s other hand went to his cock, teasing its slit in the same way that he had done it to his lover. A few more touches and a few more whispered words of love and adoration were enough to push them both over the edge, with Giacomo being the first to shoot his ribbons between their slick bodies. “Oh...” “Good God.”

They stayed in their positions for a few seconds as they tried to catch their breaths, and Giacomo broke out into a chuckle while Friedrich groaned beside him. “My nephew was right,” the king of Prussia managed to bring out, looking at the stickyness on his fingers before he carelessly wiped it off on the bedspread. “I cannot say no to you.” “There could be worse things, could there be not?” Friedrich shook his head, but his laughter betrayed him as he wiped away a curl that was glued to his forehead. “There could be, mein Liebling. There definitely could.” _And they both knew it_. Giacomo’s face was suddenly above him, the younger looking down at him with nothing but love in those warm brown eyes that Friedrich loved so much, and he was mesmerized by them so much that he involuntarily flinched when there were gentle fingers on his forehead next. Said fingers were trying to stroke out the creases on his forehead in an all so familiar manner, and albeit being in somewhat of a hurry, Friedrich allowed himself to give in to the moment and close his eyes. He knew better than to not appreciate those little gestures, he, after all, had came too close to loose it once and for all. The king of Prussia let out a long and somewhat tired sigh, “I really must be going now, Sanssouci.” “When can I see it?” Friedrich groaned as he sat up, kissing the back of Giacomo’s hand that had been caressing his face just seconds ago before he let go of it again. “It is supposed to be a surprise, Liebling. It would not be that if I would tell you, would it?” Giacomo huffed, rolled over onto his stomach but eventually nodded. “I am just... very excited.” “Really? I was not able to see it before.” The blond snorted and Friedrich turned towards him to press a kiss into his hair before he stood, picked his morning robe back up and made his way over to the door that would lead to his dressing chamber. “Oh, and Liebling?” “Hm?” “Be so kind and report to me how it went with de Lorraine.” “Friedrich!” Giacomo was able to hear him laugh even through the door that Friedrich had disappeared behind and smiled to himself as he pulled the pillow a bit closer to him. His backside smarted, though not too badly, and he silently gasped into the pillow as he reached back to feel at his sore flesh. He had not been sure if Friedrich would join him in that game again or if he would refuse to do it, as there were a few things that they no longer did; Giacomo could not even remember the last time that Friedrich had asked him to get under the table while they ate breakfast and it was Friedrich who initiated the moments in which they would be the most closest. Giacomo allowed himself to give in to his thoughts for a few minutes before he pushed himself up into a sitting position with a sigh and swung his legs off the edge of bed. He would need to clean the stickyness off his upper body before he would be able to dress and begin the day, thus going en route for the apartment’s bathing chamber. Humming a happy tune that sounded suspicously like one of the musical pieces that Friedrich had wrote on his own, Giacomo wrung the cloth in the luke warm water before he brought it up and quickly wiped his own as well as Friedrich’s release away from his skin.

He only noticed how much time he must had spend in bed with Friedrich when he exited the royal chamber and was able to make out the buzzing sound of laughter and chatter that reached through to him. “Monsieur,” he was greeted by the handful of manservants in unison that disappeared into Friedrich’s and his apartment to tidy it up, and he acknowledged it by bowing his head before he walked off. It was a realization that came accompanied with a summersault of his heart: this was his home now. While it was not the first time that he had wished for it to be, or had thought it to be, but it hit him in an extraordinary as he was making his way towards the salon. _Home_ , Giacomo simply had to smile to himself, not caring about how silly he may appear, not losing said smile as the door of the salon was opened for him. He had since gotten used to the way that all conversations seemed to quiten down every time that he would step into a crowd of courtiers, but the smile on his face was less one of joy as it was one designated to cover the nervousness that crept up to him nonetheless as he clasped his hands behind his back and searched the room. “Mignonette!” Giacomo had spotted Philippe even before his friend had called out of him and his smile lost most of its strain as he moved past both seated and standing groups into the back of the room, swiftly ignoring the countless pairs of eyes that were glued on him. “Philippe,” he nodded at the frenchman before he greeted the man at Philippe’s side. “Henry.” Philippe let go of Henry’s hand, which he had been holding in both of his, to reach out for the pitcher and fill the glass that already stood on Giacomo’s place with sparkling wine while the Italian took his seat. “Thank you,” Giacomo said as he took his glass and drank two times in quick succession, his eyebrow pulled together when he noticed how Philippe as well as Henry looked at him with unmistakable grins on their faces. “What -” “How was it?” “How was what?”, Giacomo asked, setting his glass back down. “The sex.” Henry snorted before he broke out into a laughter that actually shook him and Giacomo shot a look at him, his face blushed red, before he turned his gaze towards Philippe. “How can you even...” “First of all, mignonette: the way you placed that pillow before you sat down told it all.” He groaned and shielded his eyes with his hand as the French and his lover found obvious enjoyment in his embarassment, though Giacomo could not be mad even if he would have tried to. “Giacomo?” He answered with yet another groan before he uncovered his eyes and looked at his friend, and the blush on his face increased when Philippe pointed at a spot on his own neck. He scrambed to pull up the collar of his blouse, cursing himself in his mind for not having noticed it in the mirror, and raised the rim of the glass to his lips just so that he had an excuse to stay quiet. The other two men must have gotten the hint, for their laughters sobered and Philippe leaned over the table to squeeze Giacomo’s hand. “Teasing you was not my intention, Giacomo. I apologize.” “More wine, please,” Giacomo retorted, letting his friend now that he was not mad by winking at him while pushing his glass over the table in a clear expectation. “He rubs off on you.” “I think that it is you who has the bigger influence on him,” Henry added. “And I do not mean it in a bad way, Giacomo. I have never seen my uncle as content as when he is with you.”

“He is right, mignonette.” _Oh_. Giacomo chose to look at the content of his glass rather than at the French and the Prussian that sat opposite of him as he felt a blush creeping up into his face. “I can very much see how happy you are.” He had no doubt in Philippe’s words; the frenchman had, after all, been there during the darkest hours of his life, when he had hit the ground hard after the parting from Friedrich and had fled to Saint-Cloud. “I am happy,” he whispered after a few moments of silence, smiling while still looking into his glass. “I am very happy.” Philippe and Henry were exchanging looks when Giacomo raised his head again, he could have know that had been talking about him and Friedrich before he had turned up in the salon. “I was told that the renovation works have been completed,” the youngest of the three changed the topic, much to Giacomo’s relief. He did not know whether he would have been able to hinder himself from becoming too emotional, and he nodded in agreement. “And? Have you seen it yet?” “No,” Giacomo said with a laughter and a shake of his head, leaning back into his chair, “Friedrich told me that it is supposed to be a surprise and that I will not get notified when I get to see it.” He sighed, “I cannot wait.” “I am sure that it is magnificent.” “You already know if it is, as you went behind my back and helped him.” Philippe threw his head back and laughed, a sound that seemed to fill the room and caused Henry as well as Giacomo to join him. “If those are your terms of treason I am a guilty man.” “You can imagine how great my surprise was when he told me that my uncle had requested to see him.” They talked about the topic surrounding the renovations and the fragile friendly ground Philippe and the king of Prussia currently stood on before Henry suggested for them to play a game of cards, which Philippe and Giacomo immediately agreed to. The frenchman shuffled the cards before he laid out an equally large stack in front of every one of them, and it was Giacomo who threw the first few gold coins in the middle of the table, thus signaling that he would start. “That is very brave of you, mignonette. Do you not remember how many times I beat you in this game?” Giacomo cocked an eyebrow, snorted and promptly doubled the amount of coins he would bet in the course of the game. “Have you forgotten about the occasion where you almost lost your summer estate to me?” “You what?” “Do not worry about it, _mon beau_ ,” Philippe said, patting Henry’s thigh while the young Prussian openly gaped at him. “It is still safe within my assets.” “But it almost would not have been. Oh, I mean just imagine,” Giacomo made an exaggerating gesture with both of his hands, a pretentious dreamy look on his face, “me and Friedrich, spending a few warm summer’s weeks in the estate that was formerly owned by the duc de Lorraine.” Philippe’s face pulled into a quick grimace, but Giacomo continued before he was given the chance to answer. “I do not believe that it would have granted you any favours with your king.” “It certainly would not.” “Let us draw a line when it comes to estates then,” Henry said, chuckling as he stroked Philippe’s cheek with the back of his fingers before he kissed it. Giacomo could not do but smile, he was glad that those two had stopped seeing obstacles to their relationship were there really were none.

While Philippe actually won the first round, Giacomo won the following two. “Come on, that is unfair!” “You, my friend,” Giacomo said, a cheeky grin on his face as he swept the gold coins into his brown leather pouch, “are a sore loser.” “I demand a return match?” “Another one?” Henry nudged his lover into his side, “I do not want you to lose your estate after all, Schatz.” “I knew that you two would eventually conspire against me,” the frenchman said, shaking his head full of curls. “I always knew it.” “Like I said: he is a sore loser.” “What do you say, mignonette? One more game?” Giacomo rolled his eyes in a more exaggerated manner than it would have been appropriate for a man of his stand. “It is fine with me if it is your biggest desire, Philippe.” “You can bet on that.” “I already am.” The Prussian decided to reatreat for that last round of the game and instead sipped on his wine as he watched Philippe and Giacomo play with an honest interest. “I let you win!” Henry squealed, out of both shock and surprise, when he was suddenly grabbed and kissed. “I won, _mon beau_.” “I let you win, Philippe!” “Be quiet and dream on, mignonette,” Philippe threw at Giacomo from over his shoulder, kissing Henry again before he let go of the young prince. “There still is a draw.” “No more games for you two.” The Italian gasped, putting a hand to his chest but grinning at Henry, who answered with a laugh. “Or I shall not hesitate to tell my uncle that you have refused to follow a prince of Prussia’s order.” Philippe’s eyes narrowed with a certain amount of mischief in them and continued to be fixed on Giacomo as he blindly reached out to lay his hand on Henry’s thigh once more. “I do not think that it would be necessary, he is already uncomfortable when sitting down.” Giacomo’s face lit up into a bright red while Henry nearly choked on his mouthful of wine, managing to bring out a creaked “What?”, and the Italian shot a somewhat angry gaze at Philippe. It was not really convincing though, if the blush that stood so high on his cheeks was taken into consideration. “Nothing, _mon beau_. Nothing.” “Stop teasing him before he tells my uncle that you disrespected him and I will never be able to see you again, Schatz.” Philippe snorted and leaned over to kiss the young man’s cheek, “Do not worry, Giacomo would never do so.” “I would not,” Giacomo interfered. “I know that he sometimes tends to... overreact when it comes to me.” “Sometimes is an underestimatement, mignonette.” The blond shrugged and let out a humming sound into his glass, “I do not have a problem with it. It is sweet.” Having set the game of gards aside, the group of three had resumed to chatter about more lighter topics while enjoying their drinks. None of them had really kept an eye on the time and thus were a bit surprised when the salon was suddenly beginning to be filled with manservants carrying plates and étagères. “Is it time for lunch already?”, Giacomo asked, sitting up a bit straighter. He only then realized that he had unintentionally went without breakfast, and his stomach was beginning to grumble when he spotted the manservant that was clearly making his way over to them. “Finally,” the frenchman commented, moving their glasses to the edge of the table to free up enough space for the manservant to put down what he was pushing on a serving trolley. An étagère with what looked to be meat pies and plates stacked with various filled vegetables were put out in front of them, the empty jug of wine was replaced with a filled one and the manservant reached inside the pocket of his jacket before he turned his trolley back around.

“From His Majesty the king, Monsieur.” Giacomo, who had just finished swallowing his bite of the meat pie, held his napkin over his mouth as he looked up, the crease between his eyebrows disappearing when he spotted the folded piece of paper the manservant was holding out for him to take. He nodded and reached out to take said letter, keeping his eyes on the paper as the manservant bowed dutifully and walked off - he did not even need to look in order to know that Philippe and Henry were looking at him with raised eyebrows. “What?” “Are you going to open it or not?” Giacomo shook his head as he put his napkin down into his lap to have both hands free, deliberatedly ignoring the looks he received from the other two men. _“My beloved Giacomo, I wish that I could be with you instead of sitting in this conference - you know how it bores me, especially if you are not kneeling under the table (I love you). I am hoping that you are having a much more enjoyable time than I am having it right now. Meet me in front of out room at five, Sanssouci, your surprise will be ready by then. Friedrich.”_ “You are blushing, mignonette.” He cleared his throat, folded the letter again and hid it in the pocket of his waistcoat before he reached for the meat pie he had been eating. “And?” “I will meet him at five.” Both the frenchman and the Prussian answered with a hum. “What will you do until then,” Philippe asked between two sips from his drink, nodding in a silent thanks when Giacomo passed him the plate with the vegetables. “I do not know yet. I have considered going for a ride.” “Ah yes, the weather calls for it.” “Would you two like to join me?” “I would surely like to, but since it is his last day before he has to return to his battalion...” Giacomo would have gotten the hint even if Philippe and Henry would not have exchanged tale-telling looks. “It is quite alright, my friend. I do understand.” Giacomo did, he really did, just as much as he was happy to see his closest friend happy and able to be with the young man Giacomo knew he sincerely loved. “Thank you, mignonette.” He smiled and nodded, raising the rim of his glass to his lips. They lingered a bit longer in that comfortable round of theirs, finishing lunch at a leisurable pace while stretching out the conversation between them across multiple topics. The plates and étagère, as well as the most recent pitcher of wine, were empty by the time that Philippe and Henry stood from their chairs and the French declared that they would retreat into the prince’s chamber. Giacomo stayed in the salon a bit longer, through walking around and holding meaningless conversations with random and pretentious courtiers rather than sitting at the table. He knew very well that many were out to get any sort of sensitive information out of him - and while they did not try to do so with violence, Giacomo almost felt the air being knocked out his lungs when he, for a split second, thought to heart the duke of Württemberg’s voice instead of the random courtier’s one, and he only just barely managed to stop himself from turning on his heels and fleeing. Some time had passed since he had last had one of those flashbacks and he was hit by it even more so then - he usually managed to repress the memories pretty well, considering how much healing he had done ever since Friedrich had freed him.

He was no longer haunted by Karl Eugen and the atrocities he had been forced to endure in his dreams; it were certain words, gestures or even smells, however, that would set him back in time and momentarily make him fear that he was still in the presence of the duke. Giacomo was no longer able to follow the flow of words that came from the courtier he had began a conversation ouf of protocol-requested behaviour with, and the other obviously had not noticed that he was not listening. “Oh, I remember that His Majesty has -” “I am _very_ sorry,” Giacomo managed to bring out after having cleared his throat, interrupting the other in midst-talking, his pulse racing enough to make him feel a bit light-headed, “but my presence is requested somewhere else.” He accompanied his words with a wave of his hand and did not wait for an answer before he indeed turned and left, trying to keep his racing heart somewhat under control as he strode through the salon. His heart desired for Friedrich, to be held and comforted by him. He knew that, for the moment, Friedrich was out of his reach, however, when he exited the salon and hurried through the corridor only to finde a pair of guards standing dutifully in front of the conference room’s entrance door. His shoulders slacked when he saw them, and he drew in a shaky intake of breath, trying to collect himself as good as possible as he walked past them and towards the staircase that would take him to the ground floor. _No more_ , he told himself in his mind as he hasted down the stairs, _no more... no more, Giacomo, no more_ , taking the fastest possible route to the royal stables. While his heart was forcefully beating in his chest and while he felt as if his throat was being constricted by an invisible hand, his vision was still clear. There were a few stable boys hustling and bustling about, some carrying loads arms-full of hay or heaved buckeds of grain into the single stables while others were sweeping the floor or preparing horses on the request of nobles. “Monsieur,” Giacomo was greeted by one of them, a black-haired young man that wiped a bit of dirt off his forehead with the back of his hand after he had bowed in a respectful greeting. “Is one of His Majesty’s horses available?” “Of course, Monsieur. If you would follow me.” The stable boy leaned the broom he had been using against a nearby stable wall, gestured towards the corridor and waited until Giacomo was at his side before he set into motion. Giacomo had since decided against taking Condé, as he was in the mood for more than just a walking gate. “You may chose one, Monsieur. I will prepare it for you then.” The Italian nodded and slowly turned on his heels as he looked around the possible options, eventually deciding on the tall chestnut that stood in a stable at the far end of the corridor. “Of course, Monsieur.” He stepped aside and allowed the stable bay to do his work, quite impressed by the horse’s height once it was being led out of the stable and already feeling the tingling excitement of soon being able to clear his head in the course of an extended ride-out.

The stable boy stepped aside and bowed once he finished putting on the bridle on the large stallion, “All done, Monsieur.” “Thank you.” Giacomo did a quick job to bind his hair back into a loose ponytail and put on his personal pair of riding gloves, having retrieved them from the box that they were stored in, before he took the reins from the stable boy and passed him two golden thalers in return. He smiled when he saw how the younger’s eyes widenes as he looked down at the coins in his hands, “T-Thank you, Monsieur, but it is not...” “Take it,” Giacomo interrupted him, still offering a honest smile, “It is not worth mentioning,” he said, slightly bowing his head himself prior to turning around and leading the stallion through the door. He could not have known it, and it certainly was not his intention, but he would be talked about a lot within the circles of the workers - and very highly at that, too. There were no bitter tongues spewing hate about him here at Sanssouci, and if there were, Friedrich would make sure that they would disappear from court. Giacomo felt some of his tension already disappearing when he reached the exit of the stable, switing the reins into his left hand to be able to adjust the strap of the stirrup with his right. The stallion snorted and shifted its weight from one side to another as Giacomo first adjusted the stirrup one one side before moving around the front of the horse, stroking the bridge of its nose for a second, to work on the other side of the saddle. He moved back to the left side and tightened the girth one last time, patting the horse’s belly to calm the horse of any nervousness and reaching for the stirrup of the same time. Once his foot was in it, it took him no more than a few mere seconds before he sat ontop of the large animal that set into motion when he clicked his tongue and pressed his heels into its sides. Giacomo kept the reins rather loose as he rode over the narrow path that lead from the stables to the forest, which itself blurred boarders with the gardens, taking them closer once the ground the horse was walking over became less stone and more earth. His heart summersaulted as he forced the stallion to a halt, shifted his weight forwards in the saddle and patted the horse’s neck. The animal underneath him was prancing, its muscular body seemingly vibrating, so as if the instinctual urge to run was burning up in it; the same urge that Giacomo felt every time he would suffer under the shadow of his looming memories. “Give it your all boy,” he whispered, staying leaned over as he pressed both of his heels into the horse’s sides, “run.” His heart leaped when the stallion practically jumped into a gallop that was fast enough to make him involuntarily gasp and melt against the horse’s back and neck as much as it was possible. The drumming of the stallion’s hooves on the ground and the sound of the animal’s regular breathing, a proof that it was made for running. The wind that ruffled through his hair and caused his eyes to sting, way that he could feel its heart beating where he had planted both of his hands at each side of it’s neck - it all helped to force the unwanted darkness back out of Giacomo’s mind, though he soon was not able to tell whether or not the wetness on his cheeks was caused by the wind or by the memories. He stayed leaned forward in order to not get hit by any branches, putting his trust in the hope that the horse would instinctively stay on the path as he moved his hands up to gain a hold on the mane, thus allowing the stallion to stretch out its neck.

He did not know how long he rode until he had believed that it was time for a stop. The horse’s chestnut coloured coat looked as if it was utterly drenched in sweat - Giacomo cursed under his breath when he relized it, he should have considered it. “That is it,” he drawled out with a slow and gentle voice, urging the stallion to slow its gate until it fell back into a simple walk. He did not recognize the area of the forest he was in, though the fact that he did not gave him no reason to worry. The grounds Friedrich possessed were vast but secure and even if he would try to, he could never get seriously lost. Giacomo dismounted from the stallion once he had spotted an inviting clearing, pulling off his riding horse and loosening the bow around his hair as allowed the horse to give in to grazing by almost letting go of the reins. He made sure that he still had a secure hold on them, though, as he had no intention to be forced to walk the way back in case the horse would get scared and run off, and sat down on a relatively large boulder with a sigh. The late summer’s sun was beaming down on him, warming him in a way that reminded him of his home in Italy. He had never been out of his country for a longer time in a row than he currently was, feeling no desire to take on the journey ever since he had came to terms with the fact that he could not attend his mother’s funeral. The letter contact between him and his father was a regular one, his father had the help of one of Giacomo’s uncle’s daughter and her husband so he was alright. Giacomo had no doubt that his father knew that he had taken the seat as the king of Prussia’s paramour - while he had not written it to him, fearing that he would not understand, it would be ridiculous to assume that the news as well as the many rumours had not reached Venice by then. Giacomo played with a long straw of grass between his fingers as he simply sat there in silence, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sounds of nature that surrounded him after having wiped at the wetness on his cheeks. He told himself that it had been caused by the strong wind, though he, in truth, knew that it had not, sniffling quietly as he repeated the motion of wiping a few times since the wetness simply did not want to disappear. Despite his moment of vulnerability he could not do but chuckle when he felt the warm and dry nose of the horse nuzzling against the back of his hand before it moved up the length of his arm. “I am sorry, boy, but I do not have any treats hidden in there,” Giacomo whispered when the horse’s nose nudged against the pocket of his waistcoat. “You will have them later though, I promise.” The stallion neighed, so as if it had truly understood Giacomo’s words, and continued to snop around him a bit longer before it resumed to nip at the grass again. Giacomo would have liked to check the time, but when he reached into one, than the other pocket of his waistcoat, he had no luck in finding his pocket watch - and he let out a groan of annoyance when he remembered that he had left in on the chest of drawers in Friedrich’s bedchamber. He sat a bit longer on the boulder, with his head leaned back and his face turned towards the sun, until he felt that it was time for him to go en route back to the palace; the stallion neighed and threw its head back as Giacomo got into the saddle again.


	17. Chapter 16 - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second part :-) The emotional attachment I have to this story is very much real and tearing my heart apart... <\3
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Friedrich could only barely keep himself from sighing in annoyance when once minister after the other stood up from their chair, walked over to stand in front of him, bowed and respectfully wished him a good day before protocol allowed them to leave the room. The king of Prussia answered to each and every man of his state with a nod of his head and a wave of his hands, thus wordlessly acknowledging their service in honor of the country while he was thinking about nothing but the fact that he would be able to be with his beloved Sanssouci again soon. “Your Majesty.” The same nod and the same wave of his hand, and it took Friedrich a few seconds before he realized that it had been the last man to bid his goodbye. He sat up a bit straighter, groaning when he felt a bit of an aching pain running up his back but when Wilhelm suddenly appeared at his side and offered to help him up, he vehemently declined. He was ageing, but not yet an old man. Friedrich, however, accepted that the valet passed him his cane, which he then used as an aid when he slowly stood from the chair that he must have spend half a day sitting in. “A drink please, Wilhelm.” The first valet bowed his head, “Of course, Sire,” turned on his heels and moved through the room to where a jug of wine and glasses stood on a smile side table. The king of Prussia walked over to one of the large windows that flooded the conference room with the soft and warm light of the afternoon sun, opening both wings and stepping as close as possible to the then opened window. He allowed himself to close his eyes for a second when the warm summer’s breeze washed over his face, relieving him leastwise somewhat of the stress that had riddled his mind during that ridiculously long conference, and he sighed audibly as he heard the footsteps of his valet nearing in on him. “Your drink, Sire.” Friedrich continued to look out into the courtyard, taking a few moments before he reacted and turned around to take the glass into his hand. “Thank you.” The valet did not move from his side when he turned his gaze back out of the window and onto the garden below him. It was no surprise that it was relatively busy, in consideration of the very good weather, but no matter how many times his eyes moved through the vast space of the garden, he had no luck in making out Giacomo amongst the courtiers that were roaming around. Friedrich had not needed to voice out his question - Wilhelm had already guessed it. “I have been informed that Monsieur Casanova has gone for a ride, Sire.” An honest smile grew on Friedrich’s face, though it froze and faded rather fast. “Is he alone?” “As far as I know he was unaccompanied, Sire.” He swallowed; he knew that his increasing worry was most unnecessary, that his grounds were safe for him, but he could not prevent the twig of worry he felt in the pit of his stomach at the prospect of Giacomo riding out by himself. “Has he returned yet?” “I do not know, Sire. Shall I go and find out?” Friedrich shook his head and emptied the remaining wine from his glass before he passed it back to the valet, “No, I will go.” While he had let him known, through the note, that he would meet at five, it would be impossible for him to linger without being reassured of his safety.

If he hurried to get to the stables, he managed to do it inconspiciously enough to not cause more-than-usual interest from the courtiers that he passed on his way. His worry stayed at the same increased level when the stables finally came into sight, despite having scolded himself for it, and he stopped the first stable boy he crossed path with by holding out his cane. “Your Majesty,” the young man hurried to take his flat cap off his head and bow deeply. “Do you happen to have seen Monsieur Casanova recently?” “I have, Your Majesty,” the stable boy nodded and vaguely gestured behind him with his hand. “He just returned from his ride-out in the forest.” Friedrich just barely kept himself from letting out a sigh of relief and he moved past the stable boy without a verbal answer, but with an acknowledging nod. The smile which grew on his face after he had taken the turn into the stable and found himself looking down the aisle was a honest one, one he rarely ever showed in public. There he was, his Giacomo, his back turned towards him as he worked on loosing the girth and laughing as the horse nipped at his waistcoat. “I told you to stay calm and you will get your - hey, stop that! No, you are going to ruin the fabric!” The king of Prussia had to bite the inside of his cheeks as he closed in onto his unsuspecting lover, the way that Giacomo was trying to scold the horse was simply too endearing and just so much like Giacomo that Friedrich felt it tugging at the strings of his heart. There were no words for how much he loved that man. Friedrich leaned his cane against the wall of the nearby stable, fascinated that he had managed to go unnoticed until then and still smiling as he took the last few steps into Giacomo’s space, putting his hands in the dips of his hips and nuzzling his face into the side of his neck. “Here you are.” His smile grew into a grin when Giacomo squeaked and whirled around, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. “Friedrich!” “Yes, Liebling?”, he asked with an overly innocent tone, keeping his hands on their almost designated places as his lover shot him a dark gaze. “One could say that I scared you.” “You did not,” the younger man retorted pertly, though the soft pink hue on his face betrayed him. “You squealed like a woman, Sanssouci.” Giacomo opened his mouth to give something back, and Friedrich laughed when all that followed was a darkening of his blush. He leaned down to kiss him, but Giacomo ducked away. “I apologize, Liebling. Allow me to greet you properly.” The look Giacomo shot at him was much less dark by then and the grin on the younger’s face told very much about his enjoyment of hearing Friedrich almost begging him for a kiss; he laughed as he raised onto the tips of his toes and kissed Friedrich on his own initiative. “Could you fetch me some apples while I take the saddle away?” Friedrich cocked an eyebrow, “Excuse me?” “What? You have to work in order for me to accept your apology, _Your Majest_ \- ah!” “You are such a _brat_ ,” the king of Prussia whispered into the air next to his lover’s ear after he had pulled him against him, shamelessly squeezing at Giacomo’s backside, “you are letting me think that I ought to fuck,” he squeezed his backside harder, with enough strength to draw an honest gasp from Giacomo, “your manners back into you.” They stayed close like this for a good few moments until the blond’s breathing calmed, and Friedrich grinned to himself as he placed a kiss into the side of his neck, “But yes, I shall go and fetch you some apples, Liebling.”

The expression on Giacomo’s face never could have been weighted with in gold as Friedrich pulled back and indeed walked off to find the box where the apples for the royal horses were stored in. God, he loved him so much. Giacomo could feel his heart beating strongly against its cage of rips; some time had passed since Friedrich had last gotten so bold with him in public. It would have been a blant lie if he would have said that he did not absolutely liked it. He watched Friedrich go, the heat truly burning in his cheeks, before he managed to snap out of it and turned back around to finish his work on the horse. He pulled up the stirrups and fixed the girth underneath them before he heaved the saddle off the horse’s back and onto its designated rack, next to the briddle that he had already taken off, and disappeared into the stable box to grab two fistfull of hay. The stallion’s coat was drenched by sweat where the saddle had sat, and despite the warm temperatures Giacomo knew that there was a risk for it to catch a cold if he would not dry it properly. Friedrich was back at his side by then, carrying about half a dozen of apples in his arms and gifting Giacomo with a smile. “Your apples, Liebling,” “Oh, thank you.” He continued to rub the hay over the horse’s back for a few more moments, until he was satisfied with the dryness of the coat, and threw the used hay onto the stable’s floor before he reached for an apple with each hand. The two men smiled at each other, their eyes meeting and holding contact until Giacomo turned back around to feed the horse after Friedrich had kissed his cheek. Friedrich put the other apples into the feeding trough as Giacomo hand-fed the stallion, running his free hand up and down the large animal’s neck. “I am really surprised.” “By what?” The younger man turned his head to look at the other from over his shoulder, not stopping the movement of his hand. “He never allowed anyone to touch him as much as you are doing it right now, Liebling.” Giacomo’s brows pulled together. “I bought him around this time last year to act as my saddle horse but he threw me off the first time I attempted to mount him.” “You never told me,” the younger said with a “tsk” underlining his words, a grin playing around the corners of his mouth. “I could not have told you, even if I would have wanted to as... you were no longer at Sanssouci.” Friedrich regretted his words as soon as he saw how Giacomo’s face had fallen within a second, and he hindered the younger from turning away from him by cupping a cheek of his. “But I doubt that I would have told you even if you would have been here, it was not one of the most prideful moments of my life.” He was incredibly relieved when his lover broke out into laughter,“I can imagine,” and kissed him as an idea popped up into his mind. “He can be your riding horse. If you want him to be, of course.” “What?” The way Giacomo’s eyes widened and the shine that stood in them answered before the blond had even opened his mouth, and Friedrich stroked his cheek with his thumb as he cocked his head into the direction of the yours. “He is yours.” The king of Prussia nuzzled his face into the side of Giacomo’s neck as he laughed and closed his arms around the younger, after his lover had practically jumped into the embrace. “Thank you...” “You are most welcome, Sanssouci. It is not the last surprise I have planned for you for today...” “You do not think that I have forgotten about it, have you?” “No,” Friedrich laughed, kissing his cheek. “What is his name?” “He does not have a name yet. It is up for you to choose.”

“Thank you, Friedrich.” “Save your ‘thank you’s for later, Liebling.” “But -” Giacomo was silenced by the deep kiss that he was pulled into, the hand that was not cupping his cheek slowy running down his back. If he would have been asked Friedrich would not have lied - the gratitude that Giacomo showed to even the smallest thing that he would do for him was endearing, it had always been. “How about,” the king of Prussia whispered and brushed the tip of his nose against Giacomo’s, the fact that there were stable boys moving past them did not seem to bother either of them, “you finish with your new riding horse and come and meet me where the note says it afterwards?” Giacomo nodded and allowed Friedrich to kiss him again. “I will be waiting for you, Sanssouci. Do not keep me waiting.” Friedrich stroked his cheek for a moment longer before he pulled away, took his cane and walked off, latter not without looking at Giacomo over his shoulder a few times. Oh, Giacomo’s heart was truly racing from the entity of feelings for the older man, and he bit his lip as he turned back towards the horse. “It seems that I must come up with a name for you then, hm?”, he whispered as he resumed to petting the horse’s neck, feeding it the last remaining apple he had. He loosened the leading rope and walked the horse into its stable, still smiling as he pulled the halter off and patted the horse’s neck a few more times before he stepped out of the stable, locking the door behind him. Giacomo rolled up the sleeves of his blouse as he walked through the aisle towards the basin that the riders used for cleaning up; he washed his hands, forearms and finally his face before he exited the royal stables. Friedrich would not have said that he was pacing, but since it was not possible for him to stand still on the spot he chose to walk up and down the corridor instead. He was utterly excited to see Giacomo’s reaction to his new apartments - he knew, or, well, he leastways hoped that his lover would be happy with the results and not just see it as a disfigurement of his rooms. How much longer would he take? The king of Prussia sighed as he reached one end of the corridor, lingered on the spot and turned on his heels to walk the same way back, repeating it two more times before he finally spotted his favorite head of blond curls appearing on the top of the stairs. “Giacomo, Liebling.” The younger man was grinning, almost from ear to ear, and he kissed a corner of Friedrich’s mouth as a wordless greeting. “So, where is the _grande_ surprise?” “Oh no, I fear that I am spoiling you,” Friedrich answered with a pretentiously shoked gasp, kissing his lover’s cheek in response as they both chuckled. The Prussian then cleared his throat, took Giacomo by the shoulders and motioned for him to turn around, with the younger immediately did. “Keep your eyes closed for me, alright Liebling,” he whispered, keeping his eyes on Giacomo’s shoulders. “Excuse me?” “I believe that you heard me well enough.” “Friedrich, what -” “If you cannot do it on your own I must do it for you, Sanssouci.” Giacomo snorted but did not back away when Friedrich brought a hand up to shield it over his eyes. “I cannot see anything.” “Yes,” the older man laughed, shaking his head, “that would be the wished effect. Do not worry, Liebling, I will lead you.”

Giacomo nodded and whispered a low “Okay” and Friedrich only then set into motion. He kept his hand over Giacomo’s eyes while he urged him forwards by pushing his chest against his back until they reached the destined door. It took the king of Prussia some struggling around, but he eventually managed to open the door from the distance, pushing it open and walking them both inside. The door fell close behind them and he pressed his lips together as they moved slow meter after meter, his pulse increasing from the prospect of having to wait no more than a few moments until he would be able to see his Beloved’s reaction. “A bit more, Liebling.” They moved until they reached the center of the main room, and Friedrich was since sure that Giacomo’s pulse was racing as much as his was. “Are you ready?” “Yes,” the younger breathed, his free hand holding onto Friedrich’s arm. There were no further words exchanged before Friedrich pulled his hand away, staying close to be able to take his lover’s reaction in. It was a better one than he ever could have imagined it. Giacomo’s face fell and his eyes widened with an unmistakable childlike awe as he looked around, rapidly at first, turning around to gape at Friedrich before he took in what laid behind him. “Oh...” “And, Liebling? Do you like it?” While the answer was already resting on the tip of his tongue, Giacomo found himself to be unable to actually bring it out, as the only sound that left him could have been interpreted as a choked-up laughter. If he liked it? If he _liked_ it? The choked-up laugher was followes by another, quite choked-up but indefinable sound as turned around himself once more, though much slower that time. _If he_ \- “Giacomo?” He shook his hand as he brought both of his hands up to wipe at his cheeks, not thinking about the dampness he found there because... how could he have paid attention to something so trivial when he was met with something so great as what had been done to his room? There was not a single aspect of it that he recognized. The walls, the ceiling as well as the floor had all been worked on, though what had mesmerised him the most from the very first look on had been the extensive and luxurious fresco paintings that covered the wall. He recognized the stile in an instant, as there was no mistaking when it came to the brushwork of Bellotto, and the wetness on his face was once more present as he, without answering to Friedrich’s question, walked over to the nearest wall to gently touch it. _Home_. The fresco he stood in front of depicted The Grand Canal of Venice during a summer day and Giacomo felt a stab in his chest when he could almost hear and smell the waves where he stood in front of the paiting. The wall that stood opposite of the door, on the other hand, depicted something that usually would not have been a fitting accompanying piece for the view of the canal. It showed the view onto the palace of Sanssouci from the hilltop to which Friedrich had taken him during his first night at court, where they had laid in the grass for hours doing no more than talking and gazing at the stars. Friedrich kept himself in the background as Giacomo moved to the second wall, moving his fingers over the paint with ghosting touches - he merely waited for the moment that the younger would take a closer look at the opposite wall. “Friedrich...” “Do you like it?”, the king of Prussia repeated his question, locking his hands in the small of his back as he watched his lover with a smile on his face.

“I love it I...” was all Giacomo managed to bring out, his voice getting choked-up and thus failing on him before he could have finished his sentence. Friedrich had not doubt that his message had been brought over clearly, and he could not do but walk across the room and pull his lover into his arms when Giacomo turned around to look at him, a smile on his tear-streaked face. “I am so glad that you love it,” Friedrich whispered, leaning his cheek against Giacomo’s head as the younger pressed himself against his chest. “My God, Friedrich...” He kissed the crown of his hair before he pulled back, urging Giacomo to look up with a gentle force by putting a finger underneath his chin, kissing him as soon as his lover had lifted his head. His hands buried themselves in Giacomo’s hair and cupped against the back of his head to pull him impossibly closer into the kiss. “You have missed a wall, Liebling.” The younger man huffed a laugh, allowing a chuckling, but also teary-eyed Friedrich to wipe his cheeks before turning him around with a hold on his shoulders. There, once more, was no mistaking as for what Bellotto had intended to depict in the third fresco that decorated the room . Giacomo would have been able to identify the forest clearing anywhere - just as much the two men that were shown sitting in it. “Friedrich...” The first real sob escaped the Italian by then, and he held the back of his hand to his mouth as he turned to face the older man yet again. Their faces were hidden in the painting, but the long blond hair and the clothes that the second, taller man was wearing were a dead giveaway to anyone who knew them. “Are you happy with it, Sanssouci?” “You remembered.” “Of course I did.” There was no way on earth that Friedrich could have forgotten the lively way that Giacomo had told him of the beauty that Venice possessed in his eyes, the night they spend on the hilltop and especially not what they had called “their day”, which had taken place before they had been forced apart, before Giacomo had fled to France. Giacomo shook his head, a bit overwhelmed by what stood in front of him. Bellotto had kept all the details, though the wished that Friedrich’s face would have been visible and not hidden from sight by his head. To depict them kissing, it was... He shook his head once more but froze in mid-motion when his eyes suddenly caught sight of the space of wall between the transom and the ceiling, glad that Friedrich was suddenly there beside him to steady him with an arm around his waist. If one would have been oblivious to the obvious before, there was no possibility for them too keep it up any longer - the intertwined initials, _GGC_ and _FII_ , written with a golden paint over the transom for everyone to see, allowed no other conclusion. Giacomo was at an utter loss for words, more so than he believed himself to have ever been in his life, and when he looked up at Friedrich’s face and saw the single tear that was making its way down the older man’s cheek, he knew that the feeling that had washed over him earlier that day had been a foreshadowing realization. He did not only think of Sanssouci palace as his home - with this Friedrich had given him a home, one that extended far beyond the home Giacomo had found already in the older man’s heart and bed. With his own vision once more blurred he reached up to wipe Friedrich’s tear away, his heart summersaulting when the king of Prussia leaned his cheek into the touch. “Allow me to show you the rest that you missed.” Their laughter was honest but teary, and Friedrich took Giacomo’s hand before he began to show him the alterations that had been done to the room.

The Italian shook his head when he became aware of just how much he had failed to see on his own. Once Friedrich had taken his hand, had turned him around and had began to lead him through the room - which did appear to be significantly larger than Giacomo remembered it, now that his mind was able to take it in, he comprehended that changes must had been done to the architectural structures as well as the furniture. The painting that Friedrich had gifted him with for Christmas, which he had spend fighting against the sickness of his stomach in Saint-Cloud, had found its place on the mantelpiece. “It was my wish to connect our apartments, but it sadly was not achievable,” Friedrich said, opening the window that prior to the renovation works had been nothing but a regular one. “Leastways not how I imagined it at first.” He smiled when he heard Giacomo gasp behind him as he slowly opened the newly installed balcony door and lead the both outside, his smile growing impossibly wider. It was an incredible and indescribable feeling to be the one to bring so much obvious joy to the man he loved, it made him feel alive, caused the heart in his chest to beat extraordinarily strong and the blood in his veins to boil in the best possible way. They did not spend too much time on the balcony; Friedrich showed Giacomo the way that he could open the door which would bring him directly into the royal appartments, the blond kissed him as a wordless thanks before they stepped back inside. “It is so beautiful...” “You cannot imagine how glad I am that you are happy with it, Sanssouci.” There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere around them as they stood in the light-flooded room, holding hands, and Friedrich felt said shift in form of a force that made it impossible for him to not close in on Giacomo, to cup his face and to kiss him. He slid his tongue past his lover’s lips as soon as Giacomo parted them, the kiss gaining in heat almost as soon as Friedrich’s lips came in touch with Giacomo’s. Their breathing got heavier, the movements of their lips faster and rougher and when Giacomo’s breath hitched as Friedrich pulled him against him with a hand in the small of his back, the Prussian could feel a definite strain against the fly of his britches. He not only wanted him - he needed him. “Friedrich -” “I wish to fuck you, Liebling. I must,” he breathed against the pale skin of Giacomo’s neck, ending his words with a good hard bite that had the younger moaning. “The things you are doing to me are...” Though before Friedrich could have moved them into the direction of the newly aquired bed in order to inaugurate it, so to speak, it was him who found himself being pushed backwards, their kiss not interrupted, not even when the backs of his knees hit with something and forced him to sit down. Friedrich gasped when his back hit against the wall - he was sitting on the canapé, he realized after a second, and the strain of his member threatened to become unbearable when Giacomo slowly sank down to his knees, keeping his eyes locked with Friedrich’s the entire time. “Liebling,” the king or Prussia rasped out, his legs spreading themselves apart on their own accord, thus allowing the kneeling blond to shuffle forwards and between them.

“You told me to save my thanks for later,” Giacomo dragged his words out, biting his bottom lip as he moved his hands over the insides of Friedrich’s thigh, starting at his knees until he could cup them over the obvious tent in the other’s trousers, and Giacomo felt his own arousal spiking when Friedrich’s hips bucked into the simple touch. “I did,” the king of Prussia said with a husky laugh, reaching out to take Giacomo by the chin, “and since I have sworn to be honest with you at all times: ‘tis what I expected.” “Oh?” They both wholeheartedly enjoyed that game of theirs, the teasing, the acts of dominance and submission, subtile or not. “Indeed, Sanssouci.” Friedrich stroked Giacomo’s bottom lip with his thumb, “Show me how much you wish to thank me, Liebling,” and kept his hands in the almost ridiculously soft hair as he watched Giacomo’s hand working on getting the buttons of his britches open. He did so with an almost teasing slowness, opened one after one until there was enough space for him to reach inside and free Friedrich’s cock from the underwear he was wearing. Giacomo did not even try to hide the grin that grew on his face when the pink head jumped into sight, finding himself spiked on by the huffed moan that escaped Friedrich’s lips when he teased the shiny slit with his thumb. “I am most greatful, _Your Majesty_ ,” he purred as he slowly leaned forward to lick a stripe along the underline of the cock that was coming to a full stand rather fast, though sat back onto his heels when he felt Friedrich’s fingers tugging at the bow that secured his pony tail. The king’s fingers were trembling slightly as he did so, carelessly dumbing the piece of satin onto the floor once he had loosened it. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered as he ran both of his hands through the length of Giacomo’s hair before he gathered it in his left hand, almost so as if he wanted to put it into another braid, and Giacomo felt his own cock pressing needily against the prison of his trousers when his hair was wrapped around Friedrich’s hand. He moved a bit closer as soon as Friedrich had secured the hold on his hair, holding onto the base of Friedrich’s fully erected cock as he kissed the sensitive slit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue before he closed his lips around the head, sucked once and relaxed his jaw to take him into his throat in one move. It had been a while since he had last taken a cock into his mouth but it was the same with horseback riding - you never unlearn it, and Friedrich reaction seemed to support that. His hand was a steady force in Giacomo’s hair as he threw his head into his neck and let out a sound that stood somwhere between a moan and a sigh, his thighs trembling where he tried to keep them from raising his hips up. He could not remember the last time that Giacomo had been on his knees in front of him - before his Liebling had been violently taken, so much was clear. Friedrich was breathing heavily as he watched his then spit-slick cock disappear past Giacomo’s lips in a somewhat regular rhythm, the fingers that the younger had wrapped around its base complemented the bobbing of his head, and Friedrich hesitated for a good few moments, torn back and forth between risking it or not but he, in the end, gave in to his urge to snap his hip, thus driving his cock into Giacomo’s throat. The blond could not prevent the choking sound from leaving him that Friedrich’s cock tore out of him when it pushed in quite unexpected, just as little as he could have prevented his eyes from watering.

It was the grip in his hair that slowly pulled him back, not his own doing. Friedrich looked down at him with a flushed face and glistering eyes, “I - I apologize”, but Giacomo merely grinned. Threads of spit acted as a connection between his lush, swollen lip and Friedrich’s cock until he surged back forwards and took it in his mouth again. It was endearing and definitely heartwarming that Friedrich would apologize for doing it ever single time, no matter that Giacomo had told him that there was nothing wrong with a certain degree of roughness. He took him into his throat, guided his head down until his nose was burried in the fabric of Friedrich’s trousers and the Prussian let out the loudest moan of the evening when Giacomo _purred_. He purred like a damn kitten, a humming sound that seemed to spread out through Friedrich’s entire body and shook him at his core. “Giacomo,” he brought out, his sentence cut into two by a low-throated moan that escaped him, “pull off, please, Liebling...” Giacomo obeyed, not having missed the pleading sound of Friedrich’s voice and he moved back slow inch after inch, pulling away and letting the cock slip from his lips with an obscene wet sound. The hand in his hair disappeared, instead held onto the the back of his neck and pulled him up enough for Friedrich to be able to kiss him, the Prussian growling when he could taste himself on his lover’s lips. Giacomo scrambled to open the buttons of the waistcoat that Friedrich was wearing, eager to get to touch his skin, and while he unbuttoned Friedrich’s waitscoat, his own blouse was opened as well - or Friedrich tried to do it, but his fingers were trembling too badly to allow him to get the small buttons through their designated buttonholes. “Get that off,” he snarled after a few failed attempts, and Giacomo laughed as he raised onto his feet to open his blouse and shrug it off before his hands went to the fly of his trousers, doing a qick job of getting out of it, too. Friedrich sat almost slumped on the canapé by then, his waistcoat somewhere on the floor beside him and he tried to not take his eyes off of Giacomo as he blindly unbuttoned his blouse. He did not bother to take it, or his trousers, off, merely shoving latter a bit more down to expose his cock fully. It was only when his beloved Liebling stood in front of him, naked and showing a flagging errection, that Friedrich managed to get back out of his thoughts and into the there and then. He reached out, took Giacomo’s hand and pulled him towards him. “My beautiful Sanssouci...” Giacomo straddled his lap as Friedrich moved his hands up his lover’s side in admiration, placing random kisses over Giacomo’s chest, the side of his neck and the sweet spot under his jaw. The younger man shifted around a bit more as he searched for and eventually finding a better position for his knees to carry his weight on the canapé, wrapping an arm around Friedrich’s neck when he Friedrich kissed that spot under his jaw. Giacomo’s breath hitched, and he hid his face in the crook of the older man’s neck as he felt his backside cheeks being pulled apart and the pad of a finger circling his puckered entrance. The prospect of being taken without any lubricant made him shudder, squeeze his eyes shut and tighten the hold he had on Friedrich, though the finger disappeared without having breeched him. He did not know whether Friedrich had noticed his shudder - the look on the other’s face, however, when he pulled back to look at him, was tale-telling.

“I would never...”, Friedrich set on, clenching the vial of oil he had retrieved in one hand, though trailed off the Giacomo stroked his cheek. Considering how worked up they both were how direly the need for a union of their bodies was the soft touches should have been more annoying than anything else, though for Friedrich, they were anything but that. “I know,” Giacomo whispered, slowly leaning down to capture Friedrich’s lips into another kiss that reignited the heat between them. He continued to nibble and lick at Friedrich’s lips as the king of Prussia opened the vial and coated the index and middle finger of his right hand with the lubricating oil. He made sure that he used enough before he discarded the vial and reached back down between Giacomo’s backside cheeks. The position that Giacomo was straddling him in exposed the younger’s most private parts every time he would move his hips back, so Friedrich could push a digit into him easily. His cock was throbbing strong enough to be painfull, he _needed_ to be in him, and soon at that, too, but could not do it without preparing him. Friedrich asked him if he was okay, to which Giacomo answered with a nod, and only then allowed the second finger to meet the first. He scissored them, loosening the muscle with relatively hard and fast movement - neither or them say this as lovemaking, but Friedrich yet whispered sweet words of adoration and love as into Giacomo’s ear as he worked him open. “Mein Liebling, Giacomo, my beautiful Sanssouci...” “You can...”, the younger was cut off by a whined moan when Friedrich pushed down onto the sweet spot inside of him and he arched his back to push his ass futher down the older man’s digits, “Friedrich...” “Patience, my love.” A ridiculous thing for him to say, really. The king of Prussia chuckled at the way his lover whined when he pulled his fingers out of him to coat his cock with the remaining oil and as embarassing as it was, he nearly would have fallen over the edge from the touch of his hand alone. There was no way on earth that he would last long. “Please, I need you...” “Sanssouci,” Friedrich whispered as he aligned the head of his cock with Giacomo’s relaxed opening, the younger since having risen a bit more to allow the length of the cock to fit underneath him, looking up at the the blushed and blissful face of the man he loved more than he loved life itself. He wished to kiss him, and as if Giacomo was able to hear his thoughts he leaned down to allow Friedrich to take the lead in the kiss, deepening it as he first pushed the head, then the entire length of his cock into the inviting warmth. No matter how many times they had done it, no matter how many times he had felt it - the tightness and heat that surrounded him, that took him in, was as overwhelming as it had been the first time that Friedrich had fucked him. He just kept his hands on Giacomo’s hips as his lover lowered himself to take every inch into him, not pulling or forcing him to go any faster as he knew, out of his own experiences, that the angle of penetration was deeper and _felt_ harder to take when one would straddle a lap to take a cock rather than lie down while being fucked. Friedrich could feel Giacomo trembling and convulsing around him, he stroked continuous circles on the soft skin of his stomach as his kissed the pink scar on Giacomo’s chest that hovered in front of his face in an almost accusing way. A steady but silent reminder of the mistake he had made and the horrors and pains that they had brought over his beloved Liebling.

When Giacomo’s ass finally came in touch with Friedrich’s groan it seemed as if an eternity had passed. Friedrich continued to stroke gentle circles on his stomach as Giacomo gasped and tried to regulate his breathing when the feeling of Friedrich’s cock filling him up rippled through his body and brought a buzzing into his veins. Forgotten was the darkness that had haunted him earlier that day, as were the memories and remnants of the duke of Württemberg’s touches and words - everything he was able to concentrate on and really perceive was Friedrich. His touches, his smell... it was all just Friedrich, his beloved Friedrich. He whined, a deep, needy sound that escaped him when he felt teeth grazing over his errected nipple, teasing the small bud in the way that he liked it. It acted as somewhat of a incentive for Giacomo to beginn and circle his hips, careful at first, and it was not only him who gasped when he raised on his knees. “Sanssouci,” Friedrich breathed against Giacomo’s neck, moving his hands away from his lover’s waist to run his thumbs over his nipples. The king of Prussia’s mind was unable to come up with a single sense-making thought when Giacomo whispered into his ear, just as he sank the couple of inches back down that he had lifted before, “Fuck me properly.” He did not need to be told twice, and Giacomo’s moan filled the air around them when he grabbed him by the hips, guided him up and pulled him down onto his cock within a second, falling into a repetitive rhythm of fucking into him while his tongue played with Giacomo’s. Friedrich was very much aware of the fact that he was approaching the peak of his orgasm embarrassingly fast, as the tension in his nethers threatened to become unbearable. He eventually discarded Giacomo’s lips to suck a bruise onto his neck, one that stood much higher than the one that he had left on his skin earlier that day, unable to suppress the urge of marking him as his. _His Sanssouci, the sun of his skies, his Giacomo._ _His_. “Mine,” he growled, shooting a look at the opposite wall where the initials, _GGC_ and _FII_ , were resplendent in the shiny golden pain. _His_. “You are mine, do you hear me?” There were few things in his life that Friedrich ever got possessive of, but no other was as important to him as the man he currently had riding his cock. “Yours,” Giacomo whispered with a breaking voice, both of his hands plastered against the wall by then as he was bounced up and down from the force that Friedrich took him with. “Yours, Friedrich. Yours.” One of Friedrich’s hands came up to take a gentle hold of the face that was hovering above him, the tension in his nethers intensifying at Giacomo’s words as well as the tears that were swimming in those warm, brown eyes, and he pulled his lover down into a kiss that was all teeth as he came. He was thankful that his back was already leaned against the wall, he surely would have hit against it otherwise as the orgasm moved through him with a force that was strong enough to knock him over. His softening cock slipped out of Giacomo, much to Giacomo’s dismay. The younger man’s face was flushed a dark red and the tears that stood in his eyes were then those of frustration, and albeit Friedrich was pretty much at the limit of his strength he chuckled as he pulled him flush against him and entered him with three of his fingers while he wrapped his other hand around Giacomo’s pulsating cock. “Do not worry, Liebling, I know what you need.”

The younger man removed his hands from the wall and instead sank down on the fingers that were currently penetrating him, rocking his hips forwards to drive his painfully hard cock through the tunnel that Friedrich had formed with his hand before he would rock back onto the fingers. He folded his hands in the back of Friedrich’s neck in a desperate attempt to find something to hold on to, his eyes wide as they locked with Friedrich’s. The king of Prussia kisses a corner of Giacomo’s mouth as he crooked his fingers to rub them against his Liebling’s sweet spot, his movement slickened by his own release, not missing how the younger’s thighs trembled and how his breath hitched increasingly more often. “I got you, Liebling, I got you...” Giacomo came with a short cry of Friedrich’s name, shooting the ribbons of his release into the space between the both of them, and Friedrich, on his accord, hurried to pull his finger out of him and wipe them clean on his trousers to catch Giacomo’s head where it lolled over. The blond obviously did not care that Friedrich’s fingers were not as clean as they would have been when the Prussian took his face into his hands and tipped it back, both men breathing heavily. “Giacomo,” he whispered as he drank in the sight of his lover’s bliss-filled face, his heavy-lidded eyes and the way his tongue darted out to wet his swollen lips. Giacomo looked as if he had been fucked into oblivion - and Friedrich did not know if he had ever been greeted with a more beautiful sight. “My beautiful Sanssouci.” He drew him into his arms and against his chest, where the younger would have sank against if he had not caught him before, stroked his hair and heaving back as he waited for Giacomo to pass the wave of his own aftershocks. There was no real need for words between them, their gestures and touches told everything that their minds had contained in that moment. Friedrich held him until Giacomo groaned and stirred, breathing Friedrich’s name. “I believe that we should lie down for a bit,” Friedrich spoke against his lover’s sweaty temple and kissed it once before he gently pushed the younger back, smiling when he was met with heavy-lidded eyes. “Yes, we definitely should,” he laughed, kissing Giacomo’s cheek and holding him by the hips as the younger stretched his sore legs out and slowly stood onto unsteady feet, one hand on Friedrich’s shoulder. “That was...” “I feared you would pass out,” the king of Prussia laughed as he stood, too, and laid an arm over Giacomo’s shoulders, holding his hand in the over-the-shoulder lock. “I fucked you as properly as you asked me to, did I not, Liebling?” Giacomo merely hummed in agreement as his eyes refusing to stay open for much longer, and he sighed when they reached the bed and he was able to crawl onto it, plopping down on the soft mattress, not caring that he was not cleaned up. Friedrich’s heart summersaulted as he watched how Giacomo lolled on the bed, he hurried to get out of his trousers as fast as he could without ruining the fabric but it apparently took too long for the blond’s liking, for he whined his name in an unmistakable plea - a plea that Friedrich answered to with a baritone laugh.

There were no words for how intense the love was that was threatening to burst his chest open, no words for the way that Giacomo could touch him. He moved into the bed once he had been undressed as well; while the evening was not yet dark he knew that it would have been futile to try and stay awake, and he made sure to unfold and pull the blanket over the both of them, not wanting his Beloved to catch a preventable cold. Giacomo looked so utterly angelic as he lay there on the bed beside him, much like a devine being that had been sent into his life as a blessing from whatever higher power existed. “Come here,” he whispered, not daring to raise his voice though for whatever reason, he did not know. Most likely because he feared to interrupt this blissful moment between them. Giacomo’s eyes cracked back open, and the smile on his face was a tired but contended one as he did not needed to be told twice. He shuffled over the mattress until he found himself securely held in Friedrich’s arms, their legs intertwining on their own accord. “You gave me a home,” he breathed against Friedrich’s chest, but he must had done it too quietly as he was asked to repeat what he just said. “I said that you gave me a home, Friedrich.” The king of Prussia believed to feel his heart clenching when he felt his lover shift and was suddenly looked at with those warm, wide eyes he loved so much. “You gave me a home, here... with you.” The look from his beloved Sanssouci was not the only reason he believed his chest to burst open, for the whispered words wormed their way into his heart, and it took him a good few moments before he trusted his voice to be stable enough for an answer. “It is what I whished for you to see in this, Giacomo.” He nuzzled his face into the soft blond hair, swallowing hard. It was always in moments like this one that he would remember how incredibly gracious fate had been with him to not having taken the sun of his skies away from him, and how close he had came to indeed be forced to linger the rest his days without his Giacomo. “I love you,” Giacomo lifted his head to press a quick kiss against Friedrich’s lips. “You will not be getting rid of me so easily now.” “Oh I hope so,” Friedrich chuckled, pulling him closer and stroking his lover’s scalp with circling motions where he had his hand in his hair. “Sleep now, Liebling.” [“What about dinner?”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16955079/chapters/39843759) “It can wait, I fear that your knees are too sore for you to kneel on them right now anyway.” “Oh do shut up,” Giacomo said with a snort, laying one arm over Friedrich’s waist for a more comfortable position. “At least I am able to get down onto them.” “You are so very lucky that I am tired, for I would draw you over my knee otherwise.” “Maybe later,” the younger man muttered before his eyes closed for the last time, and Friedrich shook his head, while he continued to stroke his lover’s back and hair as the first few snores hit his ears. There was no playing down in admitting how lucky he was to have someone in his life that loved him equally much, that brought so much light with him that he managed to end the years of darkness that Friedrich had been forced to go through in order to find his salvation. He was so, so lucky, and fortunately for him, Giacomo had accepted to be a part of his life after all.

_Fin._


End file.
